My tears crept as you wrote him cry
not I your muse of whom you spoke
the hopes you held universal to me
your touching praise more than I can claim
had you known when his adoration adorned you
it was your voice, not what you beheld
that would surivive immortal
achieving fame when your temporary scene fell
now reborn in me
not the prince you held in mind
superior in prose than this man can be
for a moon by my side
your secret love I kept with me
an unfinished story escaped
your bountiful blocs again set free
whosoever findeth thee, again you will charm
always of you I will speak as high as can be
that no man, now or then, may 'over it
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