A lover’s smart is not from fleshly pine;
A probe is love; it sounds hearts’ depths, divine.
Let love proceed from this or other cause,
It matters not; heavenward it mortals draws.80
However well we strive love to portray,
We blush thereat, when love our hearts doth sway.
Words make most matters plain and manifest;
But love unspoken speaks whole volumes best.
When pen took up from zeal the writing trade,
In love’s description, oh! such blots it made!