the fairest

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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.

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