Thursday, February 12, 2009

In My Dark Chocolate Wrapper

From A Health
By Edward Coate Pinkney

I fill this cup to one made up of loveliness alone,
A woman, of her gentle [nature] the seeming paragon;
To whom the better elements and kindly stars have given
A form so fair, that, like the air, 'tis less of earth than heaven

Her every tone is music's own, like those of morning birds,
And something more than melody dwells ever in her words;
The coinage of her heart are they, and from her lips each flows
As one may see the burthened bee forth issue from the rose...

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