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Sonnet XVIII: Beauty, Thou Art Made

30 Dec

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When the gods made you, they cried bitter tears,
for they ne’er again achieved such beauty,
as with your eyes, and the wealth of your years,
and your lips, so attuned to their duty;
your glow, unfathomed e’en by the moon,
no light has e’er shown as bright as your gaze,
how soft your delight should ne’er come too soon,
as with your smile, rose lips of blissful ways;
and of countenance, your form is divine,
no grand master of e’en the finest art
could e’er match your curves, nor sculpt your design,
no earthly fire could match that of your heart;
’tis by the gods that you love only me,
I am e’er in love, as e’er love should be.

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Posted by on December 30, 2015 in My Poetry

 

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