Here count I over all the gentle deeds Which thou hast done; here summon I thy words, Sweeter to me than sweetest song of birds; That came like grace immortal to my needs.
Love’s usury has reckoned such a sum Of my indebtedness, that I can make No lien large enough to overtake Its value—and before it I am dumb!
Yet, O my gracious, most kind creditor, I would not owe to thee one item less We cannot give the sun requital for
Its liberal light; our office is to bless. If blessings could be compassed by my prayer, High heaven should set star-gems in thy hair.