By Pure Pearl

How many times the sun and moon

Hath to thy beauty been compared?

How many times the rose’s bloom,

Held fast against THEE, and despaired

Yet none of these, if truth be known,

May adequately loom so fair

For thou, by far, and Thou alone,

Are utterly without compare.

Whatever guise or role esteemed,

As Mistress, Goddess, or my Queen,

The essence, true, of who YOU are,

Outshines all other brilliance seen.

THY inner worth, THY inner soul,

Like nacre of the oyster’s pearl,

Brings luster to the lives of those,

Who in your presence swirl.

Hypnotic eyes, hypnotic mien,

Are but the merest part.

THY mind, THY soul, and beauty seen,

Cause men to yield their hearts.

And I, though surely not the last,

Within YOUR web am caught

My heart, my mind, my very will

Is YOURS; enslavement sought!