In horrible things
As the hearts of men grow cold
To morals and principals of good
She is perfect
When I see her
My heart is light
My soul sings
She warms my soul
When I see her there
If I could speak to her
My heart would shout
For she is beauty
Nude to the world
Her soul unclothed
Uncovered to all
But still with demure
The globe would stop
From turning
Should she sigh
Her beauty is great
Her being is gentle
Her soul brings comfort
Her form is exquisite
I will always be moved
Even should I become cold inside,
Because of her
For who and what she is
The very Gods would cry
Should she be saddened
