I yearn to show you, praise you, to the world –
-and straightway hear you: ‘Inappropriate…’;
said with firm authority, and yet
said kindly, smiling, thoughtful; as if part
of some continued talk about the truth;
and as I, listening, look at you, I catch
in that sharp-seeing eye, the spark of joy;
and at the corners of your mouth, the twitch
of heavenly laughter at the comedy –
the serious humour – of our earthly wealth;
Shakespeare knew your sort: a golden girl
who brings to men and women their true self.
The more we loved the beauty of your mind,
the more that presence ever now we find
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