The Color-Blind Poet to His Love
The leaves, my love, are gold and red,
As are your lovely eyes;
And the deep azure of your head
Is fairer than the skies.
Your lips are like the driven snow;
Your cheeks are like the sea.
But oh, my love, you cannot know
The way you look to me.
As are your lovely eyes;
And the deep azure of your head
Is fairer than the skies.
Your lips are like the driven snow;
Your cheeks are like the sea.
But oh, my love, you cannot know
The way you look to me.
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