The Lonesome Shepherd's Song

I have heard no sound more beautiful
than the lament of the shepherdess
Fairer than the reed placed to  the lips
of a monk
She weaves magic with the echo in her
throat
She voices the song of a bird of Paradise
The song of all nature
You would think she were a princess
schooled in the verses of  ancient courts
The bejewelled perfection of her beauty
Rough black ringlets hanging down
The splendour that requires no adornment
of ring or kohl or lace
She is a song sung by an angel within a
choir of angels
She is a star in the heavens
She is the lament of my breaking heart
She is the night that encompasses me