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There is a maiden, with eyes of bronze
That take me to a place beyond.
She smiles, and mine heart it melts
Yet I doubt she has these feelings felt.
I wish I could explain myself more freely
Instead of through simple poetry.
But the beauty of eyes so precious
Freezeth my tongue and maketh it useless.
Thou mayest think it unfortunate
That this is how I communicate
But I have for thee one question
So thou seest my mind’s direction.
If I explained my feelings of affection
Using, not poetry, but language bare
Would she abandon this friend position
And consider herself my special pair?