A sonnet! At long, long last.

A sonnet! At last.
Oh what is love, that a writer can try
So much as to describe the depth of love?
A force that stands e'en when the oceans dry
Strong as the trees, yet gentle as a dove.
She walks in my mind every time I hear
The rustling of leaves at a gust of wind
But who would know, my love is now my fear
Doomed as a mouse in a falcon's claws pinn'd.
Oh who can tell that girl of how I feel?
Or send me back the heart she took from me
How can she ever know my heart is real
Unless someone or something tells it thee?
But how can love, from joy, give birth to pain?
The answer comes - when love is but in vain.