what but love twas the most divine
that every poet has praised its beauty in rhyme
as if by stars in eyes,planets align
distilling from sunset this Autumns wine
which has such effects on the mind

for the ravens of her hair where dark of luster's bright
casting mystery's shades upon skin so light
and in every shadow a door through which soul takes flight
but it is her lips which even the moon would be blessed to alight
for not a thousand poems could their shape recite