Sonnet: What Sweet Things

What sweet things you do that leave me silent,
That still every Muse, and barren my pen;
For touched is my heart, and a heart’s ailment
Is dumbness in the mouths of mortal men:
Here I shan’t try to limit all in rhyme,
Nor could I if I willed, and tried an age;
But plain, my mouth shall rest and stop a time,
Where a poet’s work is not done on page.
So what can I say? What would be worthy?
Hear my thankfulness in unspoken words:
There lies more than speech, that age-old mystery:
Spoken in silence, in silence returned;
This is tested each day, in ease and trial
That for sure, all gift enough is your smile.

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