Warmer than the summer sun,
and more graceful than springtime breeze.
The winter seasons seem so glum
when I compare your grace to these.
No soothing sight can compare
with those lights that shine ever bright.
So I’m lost in this shining stare
that makes noon sun seem like the night.
And roses seem so pale too
compared with lips so full and deep.
Spring skies can’t dream to glow as blue
as jealous Gods, in vain they weep.
So I try but fail to describe
such beauty that rules my heart, soul, and eye.