A SCRAWL

I want to sing something — but this is all —

I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull

As though they were damp, and the echoes fall

Limp and unlovable.

Words will not say what I yearn to say —

They will not walk as I want them to,

But they stumble and fall in the path of the way

Of my telling my love for you.

Simply take what the scrawl is worth —

Knowing I love you as sun the sod

On the ripening side of the great round earth

That swings in the smile of God.