Ode to my swain

My swain, thou appears to be consanguineous to the Roman Gods.
Thy power like Zeus and Neptune and mein tantamount to Mars lord.
Thou the betoken of virility,
Inducing even the belle's of sanctity.
Thy discreet parlance hast doff my senses.

The man in thee is prudish.
The man in thee is deviated from the creativity of kitch.
The man in thee is clept scruplous.
The man in thee is poised in lush.
Oh swain, thou love is unerring.

Oh swain, thy vibrant love etched from thy soul
Is chastened- a dove,
And light of marvellous full moon.
Love of thy reveals thy credence.
Passionate with eash stare-a song, never ending;
Reveals thy urge to make me thine.
Mete me with the effect of wine.

Thy sturdy arm's touch,
Fill philtre in my cistern in cocky much
When thou with me, I ozz my breath, easily decoded.
Imprudent am I: thou the safest place to hoard in.

My senses reminisce the vintage,
Thou performed the serenade.
The music still whirring in soul's shrine,
Waning as the days are eluding
Yet, holding the remenant.
Retry, this day it seeks to hark the euphony of thine intent.

The essence of thine amour is in the aura.
Unfolding the earth and palling  the panoroma.
Meting everyone the reason to love, live
And enliven.
Whetted the unruffled night more,
By love of thine, yet encore.

Oh swain, in this night of full moon,
Thy love is reciprocated.
Thence, all of me is capitulated to thee evermore.