How much do I love You, shall eyes confess
And then to brain through able nerves convey
Shaping thoughts in mind then to heart profess
Which beats with this in time, till life's away
I know not when this magic within worked
And how it loosened hold on my judgment
As if hexed, my ears tuned to tones unheard
Awaiting your breaths in each night's accent
My fingers are the slaves of Your lustre
Which holds the pen like a feather inept
This ink and paper loaned from its Master
The poem the treasure found when feathers swept
Now each part of myself speaks about you
Oft 'tween them but with me they speak so few
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