a sonnet for...

One winter as you trembled in the cold
I wanted, more than all, to lend my coat
But trembled then, myself, to be so bold
And so maintained this dark, dividing moat
of stolid silence; placid and austere
which never would betray my silent plight.
And if you move (unwitting?) to be near
my quailing heart removes to safer height.
So must I then upon this mountain bleed
and spill my worth; if ever worth were mine
To slip beyond the tyranny of need
into the pale perfection of a rhyme.
Ah Jessica! 'tis thy untimely feat
to raise a torment in my quiet beat.