Two hundred times I looked upon your face,
One eighth of which were you aware of me.
Two hundred times I watched you cross a place;
Not e’en an eighth of those did you see me.
But we were thrown together, drawn by chance;
And, during four short hours, obliged our host.
Eight times we took our part in formal dance
While I urged Cupid on to do his most.
But all has changed; my world has turned around
By bringing us securely face to face.
My fascination with you now is crowned
By seeing how you dance with supple grace.
It took so long and, yet, I will not moan.
My numbers tell a story of their own.
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