"To My Lady, or, The Building of the Poem" by A. W. Bellaw (1888)

To My Lady,

—

OR, THE BUILDING OF THE POEM.

Sweetheart, your tender eyes

Are heaven's realities;

(Prize......hies......pies.....lies)

What hope within them lies!

Love grew in their love light

As stars grow on the night,

(Slight......fight......tight......bright)

And all my life grew bright.

To you my spirit leans,

I know what worship means,

(Queens......greens......leans......scenes)

What cheers these earthly scenes.

When on my ear first broke

Your voice, an angel spoke.

(Joke......broke......poke......yoke)

Then fell on me the yoke.

I would that you were near

My beating heart to hear,

(Jeer......bier......sincere)

And know my love sincere.

                        —A. W. Bellaw, in Time.

Buffalo Courier. September 9, 1888: 12 col 5.