by Neil Outar
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
but lustrous shades of silky chestnut brown
as vast and deep as hidden rivers run
swiftly drawing this unvers’d suitor down.
Through the stygian deeps of fading time
and through the ebon breadth of endless space,
no force in heaven can deny the light
that shines like jewels in my lady’s face.
An angel spirit clean and pure there burns
O’er her flawless smooth and rosy cheek,
and when fondly her gaze upon me turns
my mind goes numb and my muscles grow weak.
My lady is nothing like morning skies;
the evenstar burns in those dark brown eyes.
Last updated June 25, 2013