A Scrawl

I want to sing something—but this is all— I try and I try, but the rhymes are dull As though they were damp, and the echoes fall Limp and unlovable. Words will not say what I yearn to say— They will not walk as I want them to, But they stumble and fall in the path of the way Of my telling my love for you. Simply take what the scrawl is worth— Knowing I love you as sun the sod On the ripening side of the great round earth That swings in the smile of God.