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So many writers, past and present,
Try to figure beauty out;
They look at nature, even nurture-anything that's pleasent-
Then scatter all their thoughts about
A single piece of paper.
But if I may say my love is true,
Whether now or later,
Let them look on you.
You were crafted of perfection's dreams
And spring is crying out of envy.
My hopes are set in shattered beams
As I look on in bitter frenzy:
How another soul has cherished thee,
While I spite he who you love tenderly.

The Lord~

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The following comments are for "II"
by Lord Alexandre

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