The joy of speaking to her is a gift
Unearned, and yet therefore the more embraced.
I did not get her in a kind of thrift,
But rather by unending mercy graced
With her affection, mirroring my own.
I cannot hope to pay that loving back,
Though what I can, I have: my love has grown
To echo hers, and leave no jot of slack
Between them. Yet I know that cannot be
Enough to recompense the joys I feel;
For what could she receive in love from me
That would not make the love I get a steal?
None, but no matter; debts need not be paid
Where love and grace together have been laid.
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