To treat you as a goddess would be wrong,
To bend before you, worship and entreat
Of you a glance perhaps, or kiss your feet,
That I might stay here, that I might belong
To you. To treat you this way would be sick,
Perverse, unnatural, and might so inspire,
From holy virtue, some unkind desire;
A tender rose that, sprouting thorns, would *****
My senses. Still, my eyes do flitter down,
So overwhelmed with beauty, not enured
Yet to your looks, and though I am so sure
That praying thus will cause your smile to frown.
That, had enough, you'll tire of me one day,
My love is such, I'll worship anyway.
Jan 25, 2011
Jan 25, 2011 at 2:12 PM UTC
To treat you as a goddess would be wrong,
To bend before you, worship and entreat
Of you a glance perhaps, or kiss your feet,
That I might stay here, that I might belong
To you. To treat you this way would be sick,
Perverse, unnatural, and might so inspire,
From holy virtue, some unkind desire;
A tender rose that, sprouting thorns, would *****
My senses. Still, my eyes do flitter down,
So overwhelmed with beauty, not enured
Yet to your looks, and though I am so sure
That praying thus will cause your smile to frown.
That, had enough, you'll tire of me one day,
My love is such, I'll worship anyway.
© Edward Hillier, 2011
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