Unheard Cadence

For you, my heart's fruitless request
In earnest yearning acquiesced
Ought not I be, for thee, the best?
Though, true, my love for me detest
Pray some night ere you find rest
Recall once and for final crest
The thought that I sung my bequest
And sore I cried my futile geste
In your warm eyes my life invest
Never were my fears addressed
That you, my love, could be my blest
Whereto my grave I have now wrest
To ever long for coalesce