You are as gorgeous as the Saint of Love
Thy mouth is the distillery of immortal gifts
Thy spirit bonny, beau as turtle dove
Pouring down treasures from the rift
Of thy mind's heaven, a paradise
A kingdom to me and treasure is
One peep in to its climes suffice
To foster deepest passions bliss
I quail and cry in the knowledge
That you hold me in low esteem
I exit passions magnificent stage
Ashamed for what I feel and dream
    O I had been uncynical
    But they gloated to see me fall