What can I say that has not found expression
In all these words I've poured into your eyes?
Right now I fear I must give the impression
I only write these things for exercise,
Since I rehearse the same small theme each time,
A over-copious rehearsal of
The constant theme of almost every rhyme
A dull extremely repetitious love.
I feel that I must seem Erasmian
Taking a theme and overdoing it
Providing an ear-penetrating din
In exploration of a boring wit.
But I assure you: if it were not real
I would by now not tell you how I feel.
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