How lovely’s your face—em’rald adorned robe.
Your green y gloss stunts Cyclops’ mono-eye
If you permit, I’ll step on your soft breasts
Then dip my
fingers, deep in honeyed milk
Sneaking through on the arteries and veins
Oozed to moist the cheeks of mounts or vales
Where greedy root hairs sprawled to dine and toast
From nature’s cup of amber dessert wine.
I missed your curled hairs—the fine strands dig deep
In your rich scalp, grows pulps where words I write
That I hear God’s breathe caused it to rise
And one should cognize, that He loves you
As much as loving others and me too.
