My Lass Is Beautiful Poem by Benedict Shinsange

'O' my lass is beautiful like roses with their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their daisy scent alone,
But in their hue of maiden pinks and odour faint.
And yet most quaint and sweet thyme true.
My lass is beautiful, she's like a roaming dove of the wild that sings high and low with glee and mirth,
And like the lark that sings in the gates of heaven.
If hair be snow, golden snow blooms upon her head!
And if eyes be stars, green stars shines upon her face.
I've seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses seen I in her cheeks
'O' my lass, if I told thee of thy beauty,
Thou will desire not desire a lad like I.