Let other bards of angels sing, <br />Bright suns without a spot; <br />But thou art no such perfect thing: <br />Rejoice that thou art not! <br /> <br />Heed not tho' none should call thee fair; <br />So, Mary, let it be <br />If nought in loveliness compare <br />With what thou art to me. <br /> <br />True beauty dwells in deep retreats, <br />Whose veil is unremoved <br />Till heart with heart in concord beats, <br />And the lover is beloved.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mary-5/
