words could not persuade you

This afternoon, my Love, as I pled weeping,
And in your eyes and countenance perceived
That words could not persuade you, sorely grieved
I offered you the rose my heart was keeping.
Love came to lend its succor in my plight;
What seemed impossible was then fulfilled,
For midst the tears that sorrow had distilled
My shattered heart grew precious in your sight.
No more harshness, Love, not one word more;
Be not by jealous tyranny controlled,
Let not suspicion cloud the sky above,
For foolish shadows have no solid core;
Though it has turned to water you still hold
My bleeding heart within your hands, my Love.

[John A. Crow, 'This Afternoon, My Love', from An Anthology of Spanish Poetry]