Loves Old Folk Poem by Folayemi Akande

She hath no gift, than a fine loin of grace,
But her melodeous heart chants joyous praise.
I am not as loved, nor I a lover,
In what delight shall portal time lease her?
When kings and chiefs have bought it sadly all,
To what dime shall my filth worth if not pall?
When love with her intrinsic, adornment,
Drinks only but rich men's vain astonement.
Behold a silver spangle in the sky,
It will take her life time to thread so high.
For death hath sworn to marry her. Alas!
Lest, my manhood is more securely wise.
For love's realm is drunk, blind and sees no more,
That virtue hath peril aside its lore.