To my confusion, what now shall I write?
On what conceit shall I send out my love?
Jove knows, and Jenn, my dear affection's might --
Ere now in speech, have I not said enough?
No. Now I needs must write: nor flowing tongue
Nor ardent glances can as pleasant prove
In proving love -- no song, so sweetly sung
Find such acceptance, ill thoughts to remove.
Essay, then, pen, and write to Jenn in haste.
Record my love, which ne'er will be erased.