When, any time, your form a threshold cross.
With none has brilliance ever so been found
As that from you, and your fair tempered gloss.
For every room you enter is aglow,
And all the shadows therein are dismissed,
As though there is a spotlight, at your toe,
Announcing to the world that you exist.
As though the grace of nature had foreseen,
Without announcement, none would have believed
That you exist, and so, bore you a sheen
That you should ever, in its light, be wreathed-
That mortal men should marvel in your grace,
And, by perfection, know their rightly place.