True Beauty Indeed

Yet here the gentle stillness of the night,
Brings back the swelling tide of memory.
And wakes again my passionate love for thee,
Now is the Spring of love, yet soon will come,
On meadow and tree the Summers Lordly Bloom,
And soon the grass with brighter flowers will blow,
And send up lilies for some boy to mow,
Then before long the Summers Conqueror,
Rich Autumn time, the seasons usurer,
Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees,
And see it scattered by the spendthrift breeze,
And after that the Winter, cold and drear,
So runs the perfect cycle of the year,
And so from youth to manhood do we go,
And fall to weary days and locks of snow,
Love only knows no Winter; never dies,
Nor cares for frowning storms or leaden skies.

Excerpt from "Ravenna"
By Oscar Wilde.

Lovely