Spoiler
We were taking up Thomas Wyatt, Sidney and Shakespeare for British Lit. This is a play on the Blazon, wherein the writer lists all the pleasing qualities of his beloved. Now, I'm quite sure the lover was quite handsome too.
How dare you say I am not fit
To love someone like you?
Is there a vital thing I’ve missed
A thing I did not do?
Who would refuse the golden locks
And sheen of my blonde hair?
What foolish maid would dare say no
To one so fine and fair?
Why! My skin is of the finest silk,
The softest in the land!
I think that I may even say;
It's softer than your hands.
Yet you refuse a treasure trove
And say I am not fit;
Well, I say rejecting me
Displays your lack of wit.
So dear madam, I take my leave;
Bewail my leaving form,
I’m sure that once I’ve left this place
Your heart will be all torn.
