Thy beauty blazes as the sun,
Mine own eyes doth burn, from one glance of thee.
My heart doth sing, many a gay parody.
Thou art more fair, than any divinity.
Thy tender heart frail, empty; awaiting love.
Yearn, do I, for thy touch
Yearn, do I, for thy heart
Certain pain if I touch thee, care not;
Ache if I do not.
I would die a thousand-fold, for thy hand.
My heart doth rip and burn without thee.
Hot thy skin, a blistered kiss; long and sensual.
The last kiss; the last touch:
Thou then turneth and walk away.
Never a word dost hither come,
To mine ears from thine tongue;
Never a glance to me, never more a glance of thee