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Sonnet 20/04/03                         DCCCVII

Would dryad's tears wash winter's chill from bone
And ease heart's aches? I would rather not know,
At such a cost: I will not let dreams grow
That ask that I would your crying condone.
Yet, should I all of hopes and dreams bemoan
When I remain too far from muse to hold
When you need care? I say I am too old,
But do I ask if you would my dreams own?
Might I give more than moment and these lines,
To be one who might dry your tears, and share
The aggravations of a world unkind?
Might I ask for the hope that heart refines
More than desires? Can I pray that you care
Enough to send me visions of your mind?