Some splash in paint that which I scribe in ink—

Your essence rendered thus: Oh, face so fair!

The eye to but bestow a noble link,

The mind to judge and claim love’s sweet compare.

Each form of art reveals what can be seen,

But painted hues do fade and dim their blaze:

The soul alone decides which art more keen—

Smile captured in mink strokes or cursive phrase.

The eye is but the gateway to the soul

And words or hues, however they align

Engender in the mind a grand tableau—

Where neither pen nor brush is kept confined.

To me ‘tis clear, your beauty transcends art;

All tributes fail—and this sets you apart.