Your Verse

Your beauty seeks a poet’s heart to write
Your many virtues in a sweetened verse,
To spend his time from early morn till night,
To write, recite, to ponder and rehearse.
Though some may find a single honeyed word,
That in a simple way describes your form;
Describe you in a single word? Absurd!
That poet’s blood runs cold or merely warm.
But if I tried, my verse could only blush,
And make a damasked rose appear so fair,
For in these veins, my blood runs hot; the rush,
The heat of passion boils and fills the air.
If I, your verse to write? What would I do?
I’d etch it on my heart, and give to you.