Benedict Bergeron ’29

by Benedict Bergeron ’29 on February 12, 2026

My love for thee is all the stars at night,
Reflected, shining in your eyes’ pure glass.
In the dark, swirling cup I sip with delight,
There you are, but you do so much surpass,
You, like a princess over every knight.
But am I worthy to love thee so much?
No. But I love you as pauper loves might
And knows that might’s beyond his reaching touch.
My love begins with grief for your sadness
When your beauty and grace live on in such
Sorrow when they ought to live in gladness,
To be beyond this weary world’s cold clutch.
When a book is found that once was lost in th’ madness
Of busy days, I swell with glee and press
To me that tome and let the day’s badness
Be washed away in every paper tress.
My love beholds an Artist in your face
And if you weep I would hope to caress
Below your eyes and clear away that place
That your laughing beauty might be no less.
But if weeping comes and the good times erase,
I’d weep with you til the day’s most bitter end.
As the red sun sets and the light wanes apace,
I will stay with you, my heart’s dearest friend.