Classic Poem

Slip of loveliness, slim, seemly,
freshly fashioned, modest maiden, star serene,
sage and queenly, gracious, granting heart;
paragon, look upon
this grave song, growing sign
that I pine, my constant moon.
No beauty clear so dear I'll hold,
not till I'm old, foam of the sea,
loveliest lily of the land,
soft of hand, white-breasted, brisk, bright, flower-crested;
who'd not be charmed whose blood is warmed?
Moon of my nature, it was you
I viewed in my desire,
because your brow is like the snow,
able, notable, gifted, gay, flawless,
laughing, skilful, peerless pearl of girls.

If from all lands girls came in bands
and from a tree one could see
that sweet society of all loveliest ones,
the paragons of town and country,
dazzling, shapely, stately, fair, I declare,
Moon of Wales, your loveliness prevails.
Your praise and glory, peerless girl,
now impel me to applaud
your sweet looks, your subtle tongue,
dawn-sweet dearest, purest, prettiest, many-beautied,
unpolluted and reputed spotless rose;
there's none to make comparison,
wave sparkling in the darkling,
with your parabling of sweet peace,
piece of goodness, fond enchantress, blithesome dove,
lucent, laughing, blameless slip of love.

From love's curse who'll be my nurse?
Will you listen, light of dawn, to my dole?
Deal me charity, slip of beauty;
if I win not your good will
it will kill me, girl of worth; under earth
there's sad dearth of space for a person, in that prison;
low there my share of ash and loam.
That's my legacy from your beauty
unless, daybreak, for my sake
my love-ache you'll relieve, grant reprieve,
properly gentle, fluent, generous girl.
Cure my illness, dawn of sweetness,
shapely, lissom lass;
and bestow, for my woe,
a sweet lotion; maiden, listen
and endorse whilst I rehearse this true verse.

My sweetly woven, only chosen,
if my triumph makes you mine only,
life will be fine, flesh of the lily.
On this journey, soft of parley,
you'll find endless perfect heaven, morn and even,
swift mirth and soft ease on this earth:
I'm the most faithful man yet made,
eggshell maid, still to you.
Where you dwell it will be well
for me to love, luscious, lively slip, so sprightly,
following freely your trim tread;
in spite of all, I expect
to be your fellow, fine of eyebrow;
it's my aim, in God's good name,
nights and days in faithful ways to live
always in the solace of your love.

O, it's bitter, beauteous girl,
a true body can't escape from its sickness,
cruel harshness that I suffer for your sake!
You shall see, rarity,
who adores you ceaselessly; pity me,
cherish me charitably.
If kindly you'll my days extend
and send ending to my pain,
you shall be gloried till I'm buried:
come to greet me, set me free, let there not be
open hurting of my diligent, good heart.
O, take my part in this story
of my weary, stark lament;
don't augment my suffering,
ease my unsparing, gloomy faring,
my sweet darling, with swift loving.