A vague declaration of tepid romantic stirrings

If I should say, “The waves upon the shore,”
You’d think this was a song you’d heard before.
Or if perchance “the sand beneath our feet,”
You might suppose this rhyme was sickly sweet.
Alack! Clich├ęs have ruined poet’s dreams
So much that any fellow’s writing seems
The sentimental sap of willow trees.
Fair reader know: I seek no sympathies.
A woman’s hand gives rise to chivalry
In meeker men who never dreamed to be
Much greater than a hermit cursing love.
But courage is the virtue I speak of!
And now it cuts a swathe, a path, a way:
My fear dissolves as blue fades into grey.

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