Beauty lives in the lineaments of woman,
companion not only to sense, but fecundity.
She wraps us in the ribbons of a sun
She drowns us in the funnels of a sea
Beauty lives in the lineaments of woman.
She is the immortal she, at home
in her lover's arms or in the nursery.
Mysterious presence, come live in my poem.
Plight me your troth and my Madonna be.
Beauty lives in the lineaments of woman.