Somehow; all I feel is beauty
made of purity;
Of all this, in plain he dis-agrees.
Comparing himself to nothingness he decrees…
The moon seems shy, that elegance,
such is the nature of his appearance.
His soul, as noble is of a newborn
‘That is not it!’ ignorantly he sworn!
The truth apparent to my eyes is;
Beautiful him and beauty laden aspects;
Artistically painted features; smiling deep
to capture this world my eyes shyly peep.
To love but his nothingness for ever
Pity! I may not be a contriver…
To me a muse of beauty he is
Life a start; now it is!