Saturday, 23 March 2013

Her evening beauty

Can I be moved anymore by what I see?
My eyes bend in admiration at her ingratiating frame.
Her evening beauty, conspicuous melody does play,
fascinating my humanity, lifting hands of thanks to God alone.
That her serene magnificence,
Twice a week’s twilight on my heart does gloss,
my mortality hallowed, sunken in her heaven’s simplicity,
ascends a smile in me never to fail, when her I see,
whose beauty I have made my rest.


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