Wilding Wolf

The thought of thee some stillness doth beget.
I stunn’d am by thy generosity,
By thought of thee my problems I forget.
Upon high desert we two shall soon be seen,

For yonder love doth wait on our behest.
I ne’er shall from embrace of true love wean,
My love for thee hath ev’ry day progress’d.
Love, as the wilding wolf, ruthless in its ways,

Love blossoms when ‘tis planted in the heart,
Love is the wondrous pow’r that speaketh “yea,”
Love doth heal pain and grief, at least in part.
Let rivals come, who chase me at the rear,

With thee, e’en space shall not too bleak appear.