Go, ill-sped book, and whisper to her or <br />storm out the message for her only ear <br />that she is beautiful. <br />Mention sunsets, be not silent of her eyes <br />and mouth and other prospects, praise her size, <br />say her figure is full. <br /> <br />Say her small figure is heavenly and full, <br />so as stunned Henry yatters like a fool <br />and maketh little sense. <br />Say she is soft in speech, stately in walking, <br />modest at gatherings, and in every thing <br />declare her excellence. <br /> <br />Forget not, when the rest is wholly done <br />and all her splendours opened one by one <br />to add that she likes Henry, <br />for reasons unknown, and fate has bound them fast <br />one to another in linkages that last <br />and that are fair to see.<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/go-ill-sped-book/
