She is a form needless of all form
For in substance she is more spirit than body
And beauty that blinds one to all else than love
Pervades the space in which she walks.
Like clouds that drift through crystal blue skies,
In infinite wisdom, she decides
When to bless our earthly eyes
With the rains of her refreshing gaze
And when to strike with blinding light
Her appraisal of our souls with godlike rage.
As certain as the thunder's crash,
I know myself in her eyes
And all my life has been a fruitless search
For beauty, which God might give me for a prize.
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