Peerless charge, majesty, pinnacle of my senses is thee so brut, so championed to tame your chastened one
Erato, oh glorious bard may not envision such chambers of glistening crystal as my raving heart contains
My kiss, be now as your kiss and so reversed and exercised in dreams
Awaiting now in solitary retreat, for your benevolent eyes to guide me, to release thy fertile accord of gem and fruits of contented heart onto my weary tested core
An awakening is upon you as prudent contender, or is it not?
Perhaps so blind is it that be so righteous and enraptured by your warmth and guild
And sought with earnest and again in dreams so elite in stature
But still without your tears of grand elation, it lives so poor a factor
‘Tis your kingdom, your abundant prefecture, in which I dwell so fond
Awaiting just, your crowning of my grasping query hands of calm
Numerous prospects are abound, French romantics striving, quoting lore, fencing, strumming, serenading flute winds into mine painted sill from distant moors
One mind in me now shutters, evermore
For your request of me, and ignoring always, every rousing tenants roar
Am I not thy Aphrodite?
Bearer of the golden throne
And sweet notes of love’s eternal flaming chords?
Haunted by apparitions of ghostly poets here in dreams, is desire such bliss that may win solace in your expressions of great respect and so regard of thee?
Or is love dismissed about, withstanding only now in dreams for the amusement of the old high court greatness of the queen?