Her beauty is a beacon, tis begging to be sung
Along to lofty, ancient lyres
Her image an immortal grace, divinely wrung
Shrouded in the aura of cosmic fires
Not all the harps of heaven could do justice
To the passion she stokes in the truest heart
With her, the chase is on, apace
For having been struck by gilded dart
I follow her to the ends of earth
To be enamoured of her wisdom
She warmths the breadth of my hearts girth
She admits me to passions kingdom
With her I am engorged on bliss
And touched by the light of lucks kiss