(a tribute to Lord Byron)
She dwells in sweetness like the rose
That hangs upon the perfumed briar,
Whose damask petals do dispose
To set the forest glade afire.
Her lovely features softly pose
The semblance of love’s deep desire.
Those tumbling locks of rose gold hair,
Like sunset doth the sky bedight,
As, beautiful beyond compare,
They gleam in evening’s rosy light
How could they look any more fair
Were Helios now at his height?
And honey-sweet, her rosebud lips
Do light a visage pale and small
As brightly as the autumn hips
Cheer up the hedgerow’s winter pall
She holds love in her fingertips
And does not feel its thorns at all.
By Sue Phillips