My lady carries love within her eyes; <br />All that she looks on is made pleasanter; <br />Upon her path men turn to gaze at her; <br />He whom she greeteth feels his heart to rise, <br />And droops is troubled visage, full of sighs, <br />And of his evil heart is then aware: <br />Hates loves, and pride becomes his worshipper. <br />O women, help to praise her in somewise. <br />Humbleness, and the hope that hopeth well, <br />By speech of hers into the mind are brought, <br />And who beholds is blessed oftenwhiles. <br />The look she hath when she a little smiles <br />Cannot be said, nor holden in the thought; <br />'Tis such a new and gracious miracle.<br /><br />Dante Alighieri<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-my-lady/
