Grandfather

dame writing i have wooed in vain
you promised riches, gave but pain
i plied thy ear with lilting phrase
gave thee all youth's golden days

love missiles, hundreds; you disdained
to publish one that bore my name
your cold rejections of my lips
are bound in ribbons, stacks of slips

may the muse bear witness of
these pounding temples to our love
the slivered grey in my hirsute
you may have caused, though that is moot

oh shattered dream, oh frittered hour
oh heart that lingers in some bower
hoping still, alas, slack
would'st have this poor but honest hack...