Your eyes, they flash; your hair, the same.
Your lips in me do kindle flame.
In every shade and every part,
I find the mark of beauty's art.
Once we converse, the flame must grow,
As I delight in what you know
Of letters, bodies, foreign lands
(But how much do you understand?)
Each word you say to me is nice.
Each sentence sparkles, smooth like ice.
You kindly offer things, as well,
Though why I'd want them, none can tell.
That which I chase can never be,
But men are fools for what they see.
Your lips in me do kindle flame.
In every shade and every part,
I find the mark of beauty's art.
Once we converse, the flame must grow,
As I delight in what you know
Of letters, bodies, foreign lands
(But how much do you understand?)
Each word you say to me is nice.
Each sentence sparkles, smooth like ice.
You kindly offer things, as well,
Though why I'd want them, none can tell.
That which I chase can never be,
But men are fools for what they see.
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