Treasure Island

Matthew Moser


Beauty is She


She hath a name no man forgets,
And in her splendor the word resets,
Songs fall short, poets fail to describe,
The shade of sky and amber fire of her eye,
Or how her breath steady as tide,
Causes others love's content sigh,
Beauty is she,
As the rose that never wilts,
As the moon that midnight air stills,
As wheat that breaths in the suns light,
As stars that fall short of describing her eyes.
And our eyes unworthy of capturing her sight.
Beauty is she; I swear this as long as I live.
And beauty she is.

Submitted: Wednesday, March 27, 2013
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