ACROSTIC I
by Galen of Bristol
(c) 1995, Paul T. Mitchell, all rights reserved
Loving her rewards me richly and well
And gives me pause and cause to ask myself
Did ever I fall before in love's spell?
Yet my memory does not span that gulf.
Any thought is like to turn to her, she
Leads my mind through quests and adventures of
Love; of her I never hope to be free.
Ev'ry word from her is as from above;
She in no burden on my heart or mind,
And rather crowds out the cares of the day.
No clouds, my sky itself is silver-lin'd.
Dreams of her fill the time she is away.
Romancing, though must begin with the heart,
Each thought of love is born of the mind's part.
