By Joe Nsagga
Date: 5 November 1998

Thinking Of You

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup;
And I'll not look for wine.
I send thee, late, dozen roses wreath,
Because I care about you.

As giving it a hope that there it could not withered be.
But thou there on did'st only breath,
And sent'st it back to me;
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,
Not of itself but thee.