Woman Of Beauty Poem by Shabati Dokyu

Yet no song to sing, I have my lips to speak
With no folly words an ode 'came a flick.
I speak no riddles to say what I have seen
And with no further ado 'tis what had been

'I sit beside the girl gorgeously adored
Beside such girl, her beauty I can't afford.
I ask in tense the gift I'm fardeled with,
'Is it such grace with thee to be with? '

For no mort' soul nor canny mind can contain
Or worthy to touch lest alone attain
Such beauty she carry O most holy divine
Her beauty most divine, in words I cant define.

O Lord, her beauty I am fuddled now,
'stounded by the worth of the gift thee endow,
Such she is beautiful none any can grow,
Or even stoop in there her own moonlight show.

Her beauty that sear the very flesh and bone
I bow cadence to beauty none can atone
But what? Am I even worth to touch her hand?
I, the beast who's unworthy to see her grand?
Oh such an honor, madame merci beaucoup!

Such news I'm happy, my mouth can only droop.'
So the privilege I'm endlessly confound
Such invitation of the woman of beauty!
Her name was alone beauty 'canted 'Fomie'!
Which myself find all of it in astound.