Imagination Poem by LIGHTCHEERFUL BRIGGS

As heavy sleep close up mortal eyes
When upon the earth dim darkness do display
My nights are far spent sleeplessly
For needs and worries lodges in my eyes
As I look upon your imagined image to serve my eyes.

I see your navel as deep as a valley;
It is fenced round-about with lilies.
Your stature is like a fruitful palm tree
And your breasts are the mouth-watery fruits on them
Waiting to be picked like unto the ripe fruits
The curves of your hips are like jewels
That if Solomon was alive would have composed lines
You're like a garden enameled with eye-charming flowers
And you live in a dirty world as a Lilly yet unstained you are
Truly, you're a woman of undoubted virtue and exemplary piety
Thus your beauty gives satisfaction to my blood
And love and affections now encamp in my heart for you.

I love you, you whom I know not;
Fifty thousand men could not with all
Their quality of love make up the sum of my love for you
For you're the object of my most immoderate admiration
This is not an eulogy to gain or secure your rare beauty;
These are the words love's own hands did make for you
And Nature charged me that I hoard them not
Thus to you I yield them up and myself I rendered
As I assure you of my fidelity and constancy
That I will remain faithful to you with breath in me
And maintain the most inviolable fidelity
Yes, I make such a pledge of my constancy to you
Which is necessary to relieve you of your anxiety if any.

You're an earthly saint adored by all
Your quality made both sexes enchanted
Your beauty even have power to charm a sacred priest
But you only live in the world of my imagination
And I see you in the treasury of my reason
And you made the council chamber of my thought your home
Intoxicating me with the hope of having you someday.

Alas, stop seeing me in the cabinet of my imagination,
Stop walking in the treasury of my reason, and
Stop occupying the council chamber of my thought
If I shall not behold you with my sleepless eyes
You whom I know not but sees in my imagination
And I have but a moment left to say adieu to you
Thus the priest is chanting the sad funeral song
For the love I once bear you is now dead
And you shall serve for the worms a mouthful sweet.