[OS] Although I am no singer, I would sing for you

A sonnet

I’d sing my songs of love
All down the boulevards of France.
I’d sing “Iberia,
I’ve found for what it is you dance.”

I’d sing of dreamers’ dreams
Each ringing down Manhattan’s sound.
I’d have it reach each spear,
And so gleam skyward, heaven-bound.

From every mountaintop
in West Virginia’s warming heart.
I’d sing there of my home,
I’d sing there of thy beating hearth.

In these and more I’d pitch my voice, and none it would compel.
In truth, I’d sing for you quite poor, but of thee sing so well.