Phoenician Privateer

THE PHOENICIAN PRIVATEER

From which deigned deity, hast thou stole
A beauty to which words only blight
And to Arcadia didst thou flight?
Vision of you too blessed to know
By mortal man, a hope too slight.

My being awash w'er charming bight:
Cast adrift no compass need
To find her presence, a Phoenician so,
Nor oarsman hauling burley might
For shines the light of her radiant glow
This siren of Sidon, who steals my soul!
Her hair as dark as Hades night,
It's depths of passion as it's coal.
And smile to fathom of my soul
Glistens in her very sight.

By Robert L Thompsett