Beautiful Poem by LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS

It is true, very true
That hell with its entire fury furnace
Hath no fury than a woman scorch.
Thus, if you must burn,
If you must roast;
Roast those who have beheld
Your beauty all these years,
Yet have failed to call you beautiful.

Knowest they not how much life
Like a Greek goddess
Your beauty has given them;
And of your name
The least they have failed to call you.
Roast, burn, and scorch I pray you,
But give me quite time to ponder my plight plan
For I am but only a moth attracted to the fire,
Which in my eyes enchanted to behold beautiful.