Stars
(*another old one, probably from late 1990 or maybe 2000-2001. Mushy, romantic)
Stars do light upon my lady's eyes,
As tiny moths might light upon the chimney of a lamp.
Yet neither is consumed in the other's flames,
And the stars merely add to my lady's fire.
She smiles, and in that curve of her sweet lips,
Is the hint of a siren's song, the call of a nymph from wooded glade,
A coyness, brash and bold as a young huntsman.
Man after man after man doth turn his head when she doth pass,
Hoping, each, to catch and hold but even a glimpse,
To own that little curve of my lady's lips.
When her wiles she doth present,
Nary a man nor any boy may look askanse,
Nor frown, nor think a thought that is not of her alone.
Stars do light upon my lady's eyes,
As tiny moths might light upon the chimney of a lamp.
Yet neither is consumed in the other's flames,
And the stars merely add to my lady's fire.
She smiles, and in that curve of her sweet lips,
Is the hint of a siren's song, the call of a nymph from wooded glade,
A coyness, brash and bold as a young huntsman.
Man after man after man doth turn his head when she doth pass,
Hoping, each, to catch and hold but even a glimpse,
To own that little curve of my lady's lips.
When her wiles she doth present,
Nary a man nor any boy may look askanse,
Nor frown, nor think a thought that is not of her alone.