Sonnet- Iii Poem by Sherwin Ilagan

One festive night along the passage hall
'Tis where I saw thine eyes that tells a verse?
It whisper'd love, a love that I can call,
Thro' gala's harp as old as universe.
A swain like me...thou feed'st mine heart with glee,
Betwixt the land that thou dost own- pretends
As nobleman that stands as high as thee,
Against all wealth, thy pristine blood amends.
But still Thou favor me from all the rest,
Thy beauty held my quill, my stencil muse
O night I won't refrain: I did my best,
To be a part of thine; they may accuse.
Thy stature is so high I do admit,
But thro' my quill thou art mine equal fit.