I know you think I'm daft for what I do
And I can hardly blame you for the thought.
But if you knew how carefully it grew
Within my heart, and just how dearly sought
The very state I'm in has been of me,
How much I pondered what I wanted, how
Deeply I considered what I'd be,
And what I could become, you might allow
That I had reason in my choosing this.
Of course you think I'm biased, but admit
The claim I make to think that I have bliss
Does not inherently impugn my wit,
And every sign shows that my love for you
Has made me happy, which is why I woo.
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