There are magic upon your lips.
There are chasm to your gaze.
And the sound of your voice
Ethereal music of dream portrays

There is serenity on your brow
There is a darkness in your hair
A flurry of floral spirit all around
Where’re you walk, floating in the air

There is a treasure of eternal wisdom
In the dimple of your cheek
A fount of health flowing from your mind
Which to all hearts doth speak

Within you is a world of spring
That soulful, chaotic season
Which I cannot possibly forget
But dote upon, without need to reason

Emil Aarestrup