Classic Poem

Shall I with lowlier things compare
What in thy face I find more fair?—
Say—“cherry lips,” or “cheek of rose”:
Defaming thee by honouring those?
O Thou, most heavenward from thy birth,
Shall I so bring thee back to earth?

Nay, but the rose more sweet shall be
With distant memories of thee:
Red hanging fruit, removed from reach,
To lips disdaining touch or speech
Semblance may show of likeness tried,—
In part achieved, but more denied.

For beauty of the better part
Comes not from surface but from heart;
Well-flavoured fruit, soft-scented flower
Fill with delight their passing hour:
But thine—the beauties I more prize—
I know not where their sweetness lies.

Years hence (when vanished) these will grow
More sweet than any sense may show;
So, in that dear defeat, mine eyes
Being opened shall become more wise!
Ah, Rose! Ah, Cherry! Hear me tell—
Best beauty stays invisible!