Sonnet: To His Mistress

If thoughts were words, as tides whose ebb and flow
Our mother moon’s celestial gaze commands,
Each word, in waves ruled by thy lustrous glow,
Would flood thy heart to plead my heart’s demands.
Were dreams but deeds, to such glad disarray
Thy sacred smile would rouse cares so intense
That, though the sun might stir each dormant day,
My lips would mock its dull-eyed diffidence.
But hope, dear doubting hope, will e’er resist
In thy fair eyes their motive alchemy,
And, words unspoken, grateful kiss unkiss’d,
Shall bind my love in steadfast slavery
To moon and sun, thy faithful acolyte:
Unheard, unseen, thy constant satellite.