Maybe I'll write just one more sonnet here.
At least my thoughts will turn again to you
And it might make your intentions more clear
So that I'll figure out what I should do.
It is too bad that I worry so much
Else I might make someone grow fond of me.
Though likelihood of that I fear is such
That I would wait until eternity.
And yet, for all this writing I have done,
I doubt I will find quite enough courage
To say your eyes to me are like the sun
To see each day I make the pilgrimage
If only I could think that you loved me
My happiness would reach infinity.