Of Beauty

To your beauty due justice to give,
I would seek for a poet renowned;
But such bards are oft given to drama,
And good rhymes are not easily found.

Or a painter to find armed with inks,
Who has traced Mona Lisa’s perfection.
Could he do this? The pallet will pale
To convey your enchanting complexion.

A composer could strive to describe
In his melody curves of your grace;
But the orchestra can’t stay in tune,
And the notes fail to capture your face.

Poems lack the evocative words,
Paints cannot be mixed to precision,
And the music has no voiced strings
To create such an enchanting vision.

Only sun in my task can assist,
But its heat to us mortals is deadly
I will fly up to see more of you,
Though in flames I will then perish gladly.

Paint then, frivolously, playfully,
With soft sun-rays, your beauty divine.
I won’t know of this, I will be burned...
Upon another let your beauty shine.