As my heart grew more enamored, And as I felt this burning flame, It was then I knew what mattered— It was to give Beauty its name.
Her image would not go away, But all the words I spoke would err, So overcome I could not say A description that suited her.
What should perfect Beauty be called? There is no name that could suffice. Overwhelmed I was too enthralled— My language was too imprecise.
You simply are so beautiful, That any name would be inapt. Your Beauty makes my heart so full— That I am speechlessly enrapt.
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