After Valentine's

You say your poetry's no good;
Perhaps you're right.
But why should you repine,
That the gaze of sullen students
Shall not stain your matchless rhymes?
Neglected in a textbook they'll not be,
From grubby-handed lecturers kept safe.
Words of your love for me alone
To learn and treasure, all my life.
You may not scan a phrase, my love,
Give balance to a line,
But dearer far than poetry is to me
That you are mine.