Forgotten how, my eyes to see,
The kind of light that shines from thee.
Lately, lost, forsaken days,
Dead, and spent, in empty greys.
Arced the sun in countless skies,
Whence last I saw with youthful eyes.
Now failing sparks, in hidden haze,
See blurring inks, on foxing page.
And yet she comes, this clear blue day,
In all her glory, fresh, and gay.
Cutting through my day that’s duller,
To fill it full, with all her colour.
See golden hair, in fallen tress,
Capture sunlight, in silks caress,
Refracting light, across her face,
Showing her, in all her grace.
See her eyes, of celadon,
And with them how she looks upon.
With pure love, as Eleos,
And all the gifts that she possess,
To feel the sorrow in my chest
Profer aid, absolve, confess.
And with mine sight, see passions in,
Under pure and faultless skin.
Their heat released 'cross sublime lips,
Flushed and full, the perfect kiss.
Each ebb, and flow, a rise in full.
A form so prefect, beautiful.
Each curve of her, this world does bless,
And Waterhouse depicted less.
For all his skill, could never frame,
This picture fair, and rapture flame.
Like Hylas stood, before the lake,
In awe, ardour, his heart awake.
I bow to you, oh prophetess,
Your charm, your beauty, acquiesce.
I thank you now, for all your gifts,
My sadness waned, has turned to bliss.