By what sweet manner then is true love born

That she still moves those souls that cannot see,

For often sight alone brings beauty scorn

When vision such is tinged with jealousy?

We often hear as truth that love is blind,

Yet told as well, it strikes us at first sight;

These words as such, a paradox confine

Where truth and beauty mingle in dim light.

Love visits not by beauty’s wain alone,

But when she comes she must astound the heart;

Her power as such by every sense bestowed,

For essences unseen do love impart.

How love arrives is often rarely clear,

Yet once enthroned in hearts, remains most dear.