If my love first bristled rife with thorns A hedgehog whose hidden heart beat true, Or if my love no wonderment could ken Beyond the near dog star, whose sole blaze she knew, 5 Or if her mien plumped ponderous as bagged cement But goodness in her stolid looks was meant I'd not protest a poke whose purpose kissed Nor shirk her smiting smile, but be smitten, Nor once critique the false laugh that lisped 10 But stuff my ears with sighs of sweetest wish. And the shining sharps of stars I'd thought forgotten In her true love's tears would pool unbroken. This erudite test I'd pass was never sent Since your untutored beauty beauty lent.
From the collection "Supposing Roses"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.