Then Come Kiss Me Sweet And Twenty

Methinks thine love exceedingly fair
With each hallowed breath ye take
Perfuming sweet sacred air
With dulcet sound most heavenly make,
A wispy bouquet exceeding rare,
Bearing fond memory of thine passing there.
Methinks I despair not,
Forsooth, unless thee art not there
Flights of angels wings brushing
Yet soft summer in sacred air
Where brushed gossamer webs trembling quake.

Whatever honour will command tis fair,
Thee thine most consummate beauty sow.
Women art like unto the sweetest rose in garden's rare
That doth to perfection grow...
Not froward,
Modest as the dove.
Not hot,
Temperate as the dews of morn,
A gentle raindrop kiss from above,
That in a twink
Won me to thine sweet love.

Methinks mine outside hath charmed thee,
Brought out thine captivating array,
Strangely beholden to see
Vibrant stars display.
Methinketh if women be the devil's dare,
Vibrant beauty paralleling phosphor sky,
They would be just as fair,
Heralded still by angels on high,
Beaming light
Glowing sun bright.

Jove and my stars be praised,
Merry meet I will manage well,
In mirthful jest unfazed,
Even as flattering dreams dreamt tell.
Worthless fancy,
Well husbanded,
Twill be pastime passing chancy,
With fair modesty performed,
An excellent part fitted aptly
Brought to bear most naturally.

Methinks odd behaviours seemly dispassion,
To over-eyed curly youth,
Breaking into some merry passion,
Seeking not to bear thineself so forsooth.
Honourable actions seek compassion,
Lowly courtesy tit for tat
Soft knavish tongue a bastion.
I say what tis it...
What of that?

Methinks thine singing beat
Seemly virtuous,
Singing as nightingale sweet,
Most handsomely contagious.
In faith,
Methinks I must be round with thee
Shadowed wraith,
Possess us
Possess us
Mine heart tis aching,
Mine tender heart near unto breaking

Every wise man’s son doth know
What the honourable lady of the house
Doth sow,
Stainless youthe shall rouse,
Methinks bearing a stuff twill not endure.
Gentle youthe
This humble knight insure,
Intemperate youthe.
Upon whose brow doth therein sigh with tepid fire.
Betimes in lady's ravishing beauty tuck,
Alongside quietude of Celestial morning star,
Hiding impish rogue puck,
Tuned to music of the lyre,
In sweet face most excellently done.

Methinks the rudeness in mine jesting line,
Tis filled to very brim with admirable fooling
Abetted with jolly stoup of wine,
Mine fevered brain addling.
Alas tis learned from mine entertainment’s cuckold,
Without flattery given,
Forsooth fooling grows old,
Mid churlish brevity bold.
For good humour like fetching beauty
Blowing yet hot and cold.

Methinks thine sheer loveliness
Brilliantly done as the summer’s day
Forsooth shines in hue most radiant,
Heaven’s most glorious ray,
With unseeming grace of a swan ebullient
Heart and soul aghast at thine royal array.
Thine coy affectation
Mine churlish heart doth rule,
Treating Knightly honour
As a knavishly befuddled fool.

Yet am I before thine grace but a helpless fool
This wretched, wonderful day.
Methinks thine lovely arched neck devilishly cruel,
Hath brought this humble Knight's will to bay
Inspiring demons within on mine senses to play
Mine errant sensibilities grown numb,
Still say ye yay, or nay go on,
Forsooth I am undone
By grace of a beauteous swan
Floating hither and yon...