Her rhythmic song sings fulfillment to the depths for the soul

With music, so caressing that its strokes are unmatched to the human longing.

Her voice round and full, calls to the smoothness of the ocean

In the summertime

As it waves move lazily upon the waters.

Her ladyship fulfilled as she bends her   Knees

Her young suckle the milk of love’s enclosements.

Their hearts are filled with hope and assurance

as they   Consume their dreams on mama’s secret strength  and tenderness.

Her locks firmly tightened, are the glory of   her head.

They lend themselves to blackness and tawny Brown,  The beauty of the sun.

They are stretched and entwined again in a   Dance that en-frames

The glow of her ebony face.

Obedient in versatility a harvest crop about Her neck and shoulders.

First tightly entwined then straightened with   the warmness of her combs.

Curling this way and that, her obedient locks Honor her as none   Other can.

Hers is solely hers as its movement lacks Dullness, but speaks Of loveliness…temperance.    Kissed by the sun and touched with honey

The sweetness of her Berry is the skin she wears.

Authentically graceful resisting lines of time.

She retains the foundation of youth upon her  Face.

So smooth and supple, it remains to the touch as the years go by unnoticed.

Who has made her   Beauty, but her Maker?

The One who makes no err

Fearfully and wonderfully is the comeliness of His sculpture.

Molded by the prudence of love, which is the sonnet of His heart.

So precious He has made His ode to His   Black women.  “