Too much to hope for, perhaps,
And I don’t even know how to begin.
No way to tell you what I see in you,
In your eyes, in your smile, inside,
All the things that make you beautiful.


Tell me how to win you, please,
And I’ll do nearly anything –
No care will be withheld, you’ll see:
I’ll give you poems, songs to sing,
And sweet romance; just come to me.


In my

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Stranger, here you will do well to tarry; here our highest good is pleasure.