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My Golden Mistress
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Sonnets My mistress is the Queen of all the land;
I bear her likeness with me every day.
It brings me joy to hold her in my hand,
To stroke her cold, hard face whene’re I may.
I love her golden hair and silver crown,
And her complacent smile makes me rejoice.
Her face is cast, so never does it frown,
Metallic clinking is her lovely voice.
But then she also has a bestial side
And changes into creatures of the wood,
And yet I love her far too well to chide:
She holds my love more than a woman could.
So, though she sleeps in vaults, and not my bed,
Sweet dreams of her forever fill my head.
