The Gold That Gilds Her Heart
The Love I love lacks the eyes of a doe,
There are beauties that boast of much better—
The body and bewitching face that awe,
Yet, her modest assets tend to fetter,
My garden earth with a deep shade of grey,
Has more reddish tinge than that on her lips,
Day’s dying dusk more lustre, men to sway,
O than the lingering smile that she keeps,
Her visage has warmth of late autumn's eve,
I see wilted rose in her wrinkled cheeks,
The bouquet of her bosom that oft reeks
So foul, would make brave-hearts her room to leave….
What works for me is far from any art—
I just love her for gold that gilds her heart.
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Sonnet |16.11.2008| love, heart
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