In My Fair Love's Age Poem by Folayemi Akande

Too fair, too unfairly fair art thou That thy eminent beaut' is above compare Much so, the sun is by thy hue a mockery of itself now. In this I commit to shame, for i find no fault through thine entire beauty sphere. Too wisely fair art thou, thine skin is but a dove a-side a pot Thy hair is like the grass that is beautifully seated by the river Come the harshest of heavens wrath it withers not- But grows, come the sufferance; even greener. Lo, How canst one self behold tremendous share of physical power Alas! Rifting the balance of nature in the fold of thine grace? Methinks thou art a majestic work of art that is perfect in God's order. All descent of flowers think of thy infrequent form worthy of praise. Me bethink of life's predicament devoid of thy grace For trees shall be barren devoid the carpet of light on thy face For the sky shall be too dusk for birds to fly devoid of thy gaze O life is at stake in thine absence in many ways. For man shall untie from the consent of lust And commit to God, rather your gust. Though men argue earth has nought to show more fair Than a lass, subtle in spirit and worthy a fere. Men dot admiration for thy lips, thy hips, thy breast and thy bosom As if all together summed will dare a summer ridden leaf to blossom. Were admirations sold a-pence, thine true figured self shalt be richer than the richest willow tree. But good means and fortune lack sight of thy path Of reproach in good measures hang aloft thy bree Shalt I seat here as well by thine river of rue to cast away mine youth?