Sonnet 575

True love is not by measure beauty borne
For beauty stands as raiments held in lease
And like a precious garment soon seems worn,
Though yet of heart, fond recall still entreats.
By recollection such your vestment lives
Locked in that precious vault where memories lie,
For though false sight a faded image gives
That first worn blush still smites upon my eye.
To me you shine as bright as grace may glow
When my heart wanders to that first held sight
And though Time always stands to ply his woes,
No mischief there can ever shroud that light.
By power of love your beauty shall remain—
And all aspersions there be cast in vain.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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