The Emerald Courtesan

I gaze at her beauty and hide my face in shame
For I am not worthy of such splendor and grace
The lady, she truly is, a wonder to behold
Her hair, locks of gleaming chestnut, falling in a wild tumble of sensual grace
Her face, so fine, so lovely, Aphrodite herself screams in righteous fury
Eyes, so clear, with purity beyond compare
Their hue so green that emeralds may weep with envy
Her skin the finest ivory; her figure without flaw
She dances, I declare, with feet lighter than a feather
Her voice, a melody so sweet, no songbird can compare
Her wit, her grace; I dare not speak
For what words can capture their true splendor

What a woman, nay, what a goddess
I am but a mortal soul basking in the glory of her eternal reign
She lives above the squabbles of our common court
Her emerald gaze cares not for our petty plots and foolish schemes
Her company is graced by kings
And we, of the court, are worthy to do naught but serve at her feet