Favoured by Nature

I know not your face or demeanor;
I am unsure whether you are a saint or a sinner,
But I see that nature loves you,
So I will do too.

Birds at sunrise sing your praise,
While morning dew clouds your face.
Flowers smile when said your name;
Fire makes way for your little flame.

Bacchus, O god of wine,
said, "Can’t you see the way he shines?

I see his shine gives light to soulless eyes,
So next to him I’ll try to stand,
For he will rid my eyes of sand.

I have seen beauty’s grace,
A mirror reflecting Venus’s face.
Dear boy with nature’s favour,
They have told me you are braver.