Sonnet 204

What sure sweet honor does your beauty dress
Which captures here the focus of all eyes?
Yet of your worth, your virtue triumphs best,
For beauty is oft superficial guise.
Still few, if any, truly see your heart,
Ensconced within those charms your glass does show;
And though you view them, set you them apart,
As if they were imaginary clothes.
True beauty is not out, but lies within,
And is the essence of all human worth;
For those that prize prinked opalescent skin,
Their value of true beauty is perverse.
While nature’s garment often dulls with wear,
True virtue’s vestment shines forever fair.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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