Her Priceless Love

Were I to possess the Crown of joys,
I would barter them all for her priceless love,
The victory, conquest, and coronation of my life,
Or a beggar, seeker, and quester for a lifetime.

Her face is whiter and lovelier than the full moon,
Her lips and cheeks of glowing ruby,
Honey of delight from her sweet words and syllables,
She gives off the fragrance of rich musk blossoms.

What profits the tyrant in his ruthless decrees,
The sceptre that bears the signet of falsehood,
When my all consuming love,
Is worth more than the burning and bloodshed of multitudes.

The festive choirs of larks that herald the golden dawn,
The sun rays that beautify oceans and lakes,
The legions of Floras that fill the meadows with incense,
None would be like the blessing of her gentle affections