Sonnet: My Lady, Though No Fool

My Lady, though no fool for courtly love,
I must confess you find me ill at ease
When in your presence. I am not above
Desire, but thought to meet it as I please.
For I am troubled by what stirs within
My breast when e’er I contemplate your face.
Such loss of wits to me is mortal sin.
I find I am embarrassed by your grace.
So thus it seems your beauty breeds in me
A gentle poison to undo my soul.
My shipwreck’s total; your eyes are my sea.
They drown me in their depths, consume me whole.
Against my will, I yield to Eros’ bliss.
My Lady, you destroy me with a kiss.