The Value Of Poetry

I’ve not been blessed with Herculean form,
Nor have I looks to make a damsel swoon.
Though my enthusiasm for swordplay is warm,
I doubt my skills would win some lover’s boon.

I’ve neither power, nor wealth with which to draw
Attention from some fair and gentle eyes;
No titles, honors, trappings which would awe
Any to look on me with longing sighs.

I’ve nothing to suggest that I might be
One who might awaken passion’s fire,
Except my words, with which to make you see
A poet’s heart, to breed in you desire.

My verses are my only way to woo;
So in your ear, I whisper rhymes to you.