Dream of a Baroque Prince

This is a heroic couplet version, which seemed appropriate since it was popular in the 17th Century:

In dreams you wear the steel with natural grace,
As if by birth it held your form in place.
Your eyes command, and beckon me to rest
My hands upon the armor of your chest;
Beneath the heavy cuirass, bright and cold,
I feel a warmth the metal cannot hold.

My gaze ascends from gold and iron deck
To find the lace that wreaths your noble neck—
The elegant and woven ruff, I find,
Dressed round your throat by my inventing mind.

I ask to kiss your nose’s graceful curve;
You give the leave my longing would deserve.
But to my deep dismay the vision breaks,
And ere my lips can touch, the dreamer wakes.

here is a sonnet, trying to copy that dude billy shakespeare:

Within the dream you wear the armored plate,
As if your form was born to bear the steel;
Your beckoning eyes decide my sudden fate,
And guide my palms to touch the warmth I feel.

Upon the cuirass rests my trembling hand,
To find the heat beneath the breastplate's gold;
Then wanders up to where the lace is planned—
The ruff my mind has woven, soft and bold.

I ask to kiss your nose’s graceful curve,
That noble arch my spirit longs to greet;
You grant the boon my heart would scarce deserve,
And lean closer to make the joy complete.

But ere my lips can brush against your face,
I wake, and lose the vision and the grace.