Feeble Attempt at a Love Poem

For years I sought to prove my love is true.
Not your love for me, but mine for you.
No nearer now than when I'd first begun,
One sober truth lies painful at the dawn:
True love is poor expressed in verse.
Should I expect success where others failed?
Lacking tongues to praise, in kingdoms by the sea,
Let me count the ways she walks in beauty.

Greater than I, yet their words did not fly
To heaven extolling your beauty.
Though death be not proud,
Your beauty lives on,
Even though I forbade you go gently.
Now I am done, though hardly beginning
My task perhaps angels can finish
With language by nature more fitting.