Of me, dear lady, have no fear;
I do not seek to tip-toe near;
I only wish to sport with words;
My thrusts are only in my verbs;
I seek you walk with Jesus Christ,
You seek his counsel and advice;
And though you speak with Sappho’s voice
There’s strength and wisdom in your choice;
The pity is the loss to Art
That you choose not the lover’s part;
Your guiltless sin commits this crime: :
Depriving Art of lovely rhymes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem