I cannot tell you how much I have loved you, nor give you an accounting of my joy, nor
share with you the hopes with which I've held you, nor shadow forth the dreams I would employ
You cannot know the pleasure that you gave me, nor grasp the grace in which I've spent
my days, nor understand the standing that would save me whenever darkness met my morning gaze
You've been to me a moment everlasting, though lasting but the moment of us all, and given
me a glimpse of what, in passing, must pass for what awaits beyond the wall
Much love I wish for you, as I have known, but that must come from children of your own