the fairest

I found sweet deeps to plunge you in where oceans cease and vaults begin the wakes there roil in brumes of mist and cheeks of sky are blushing, kissed the face oft’ graced with features, yours thus featured with what each adores soft bats each lash o’er polished stars that melt midst moony eyes … like ours for beauties borne as thine shine bright ne’er chanced askance for fancied flight and should some others draw those gifts they’re tossed to where the flotsam drifts lest drowning cold what absence pours they’d take from light what light abhors and float there buoyant twixt dark clouds their vixened visage swirled with shrouds still - most looking glasses feign that grace should god-skilled sculptors give such face for women’s charms are poised and crowned to swoon their prince where hopes are bound … with wonders soft … and warm … and round.