A Short Love Poem - After the Irish Style

While visiting my sister Anne in Texas, I found a lovely little book of short Irish poems. I looked at it initially because of the humorous title The Hip Flask: Short Poems From Ireland, but I quickly discovered that it is full of heart-achingly beautiful verse. My favorite, for instance, is by Monk Gibbon, an otherwise unknown poet to me - it reads:

I tell her she is lovely and she laughs,
Shy laughter altogether lovely too;
Knowing, perhaps that it was true before;
And, when she laughs, that it is still more true.

Beautiful, is it not? So, because I'm the sort of person who is not content to let beautiful things be, I tried to imitate the style. Here's my first attempt.

Pass me, my love, a fork and knife

For this first meal as man and wife.

Please fill my plate, I’ll pour your glass;

This time’s as pure as any Mass.