Full of heartache's song and insipid cries,
Thus mine love in forlorn chambers lie.
Never daring to rouse and awake within,
Accepting of bleak, morose, discordant din.
Until in a spark of frenzied sunrise rose,
And pierced through a heart so tightly closed.
Thy smile outshone the seraphim's holy light,
And thy laughter louder than hymns of might.
Colour has never been so bright and bold,
And Iris herself relinquishes her title and hold,
To bow down to thine eyes of golden myrrh,
And I shall follow thy siren's song and lure.
Beauty and kindness had known no other.
It is with utmost adoration these words I utter.