A Damsel

A Sonnet

If  my arms were laden with pink rose buds

they would not blossom for a king, but for thee.

If thou should take them with my promised  love

for thine heart they would bloom in eternity.

 

T’was not thine eyes, nor the bouquet of thy smile

that maketh me fragrant with your love.

But my maiden heart  weighs so heavy in hope

Pray touch me, if only softly with thy glove.

 

Sir, I am no vain nor dim-witted wench,

but a mere damsel withered not with any age.

In worshiping the sweet temple of thy lips

my tears runneth locked within love’s cage.

 

Oh why, dost thou cast me aside as a twig

Art thou a bootless rude bellied pig?

©SyberRose

Author's Note

Thank you for reading and thank you to Stella for setting me straight with the tenses,
thee thy and thou as I tend to mix them up.

Reviews

[Stella Armour]

a lovely sonnet written in old English ..well done Rose

[SyberRose]

Thank you Stella...Im glad you enjoyed...and thanks again for taking time to help.:)

[Stella Armour]

my pleasure Rose :o)

[QuietlyCrash]

Wow. You are so versatile, always a lovely time reading your work. Great write :)

[SyberRose]

Thank you for those sweet comments...and so nice of you to take time to read today:)

[Regina Boheme]

Truly lovely. I am inspired.

[SyberRose]

Thank you so much...and I will look forward to reading your poems...Rose:)