Alas, she is so fair and unique, yet modest, being not moved
To scorn the sworn declaration,
That I in her have found to be so rare and so loved
Yet I am plagued; is she true or is she is my fancy's own creation.
Imagination needs are our craving consume; they stir the soul;
Dear my maid, this truth I believe,
Minds that have nothing to confer
Find so little to comprehend and to perceive
By what miracle nature made her so royal and fit
To feed my heart's devotion; my heart throbbing emotions
By sublime laws to which all forms of nature submit
In sky, in air, in earth, and in the vast blue ocean.
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