On Canvas Lay Perfection – The Cockney Bard

On canvas lay perfection

Methinks her beauty ‘tis but a sun whom shine and a moon, whom whisper the soft soothing melodies of love. Where arrows of love did aspire and delight me. Beauteous maiden whose lips I hath taste, never to forget such succulence. Soft, gentle skin do I embrace, thy sweet, sweet face. If ever love did entomb my conscience, ‘tis your beauty still. My hand doth see the painters hand to beautify thee. On canvas lay perfection, speak words describing beauty, thus, if ever the mind deceive and beauty were it gone, such treachery befall me. For thou art beauty and beauty art thou. A passion stills my pounding heart and fires they burn this night, brighter than the sun, sweet sun. Thou art most beauteous, and thou art mine. Each breath I thee breathe tastes of thou, and ever will mine love be yours.

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