Those bless'd cheeks
Are donned by God
As angels seek
Their latest garb

A rose would be
Confused as such
If ever seen
Beside your blush

A sacred tune
Erupts from when
A kiss is due
To praise your skin

The finest silk
The fur of cubs
Are not the ilk
Of your soft love

I'd gladly brace
A thousand thorns
To brush your face
But once each morn

And fear thee not
For age would come
And I'll have caught
The two-for-one