Re Verse

The presence of my love is nothing new,
Nor its expression in this sort of verse;
Indeed, I'm sure 'tis tedious to rehearse
The frequency with which I madly strew
This space with words declaring what we knew
Before: I love, and love can be a curse
To those who wish my illness not get worse
(I mean my logorrhea). This is true.
But every day this old theme freshly springs
Anew within my heart, and bids me write;
And even when, from business, I spite
That urge, it but compounds, so each morn brings
A double, treble need to write; and I
Must of my love once more reversify.