Would I could have loved her more,
Exceeding each man's love before,
Beyond the depths of oceans wide,
Below the striving, moving tide...
Stretch out my hand with soft caress,
To touch her cheek as if to bless,
To touch those lips, hold back my sigh...
Or wipe her tears if she should cry...
And can it be, that she loves me?
And longs for all that we might be?
And thus calls me her Valentine?
For I am hers... and she is mine...
Denis Martindale January 2020.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem