Classic Poem

Miranda mine, thy beauty is more rare
Than May-day flowers that deck the meadows green;
Thy lips are sweeter than the lily fair
Plucked fresh at dawn from out the glittering sheen;
The mantling color of thy cheek's bright hue
Makes pale and shames the blood of damask-rose;
Thine eye preserves the violet's pensive blue,
Which, born of light, with Heaven's own color glows;
Thy neck, full sweet, seems like a flowery lane,
Or garden pathway, to thy gentle breast,
Where love, that knows not passion's earthly stain,
Has dwelt alone and wished no other guest.
Here Eden's flowers retain the morning dew,
And sweeter seem united all in you.