By what sweet vision then is true love borne
For still she moves those souls that cannot see;
And does not sight yet bring proud beauty scorn
When image such is tinged with jealousy?
We often hear as truth that love is blind,
While yet still told it strikes us at first sight,
Yet words as such confound, since we may find
That truth and beauty mingle in pure light.
Love visits not by beauty’s wain alone,
For when she comes she must arrest the heart;
Her power as such by every sense enthroned,
Those seen and yet unseen, can love impart.
How love arrives is often never clear,
Yet when ensconced in hearts, is ever dear.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.