I could have sought by wit or wile
Your bright dream to dim. And yet
If I'd swayed you with a smile
My reward would be regret.

So, for once, you shall not hear
Of the tears, unbidden, welling;
Or the nighttime stabs of fear.
These, this time, are not for telling.

Take my silence, though intended;
Fill it with the joy you feel.
Take my courage, now pretended--
You, my love, will make it real.

 © written by Pat Collins to her husband, Mike, prior to his launch toward the moon on Apollo 11, from Carrying the Fire