Thou art a sorceress with thine eyes blue as the sky and thine hair where the sunlight gleams enmeshed.
Who, in past ages, stole thee from those languid beaches where the sunny waters ripple and where the cadenced songs of the Sirens rise to enchant the hearts of men? Or didst thou come from the shadowy woodland, born of some clear, cool spring and the sunbeams glancing among the trees?
Even the least word of thy lips is like a song; the glory of thine eyes is priceless happiness; within thine arms, one could dream forever or burn forever insatiate. And when thou smilest . . . I am a god in the wonder of that smile.
