To A.K.

To A.K.

To fight against with silent worded sword
The death of passion, th' ended hoper's hope
Which heretofore did fill my poet-song,
A seeming endless wind of utterings.
To long that thou, perfection's paragon,
Would favor plaintive sighs, my words approved.

It will not be: Words' hand doth stay my speech,
Ne'ermore the music, broken finally.

My love intense instead will untouched be,
To hold us fast in unnamed bonds, as friends
Beyond the mere companionship of Man,
But not to move to lovers' binding love.
Thus bound, yet unbound, we, two souls do stand,
Defying labelled state and living still.