Linus Soh

When Nature made her chief work, Stella’s eyes,
In color black why wrapped she beams so bright?
Would she in beamy black, like painter wise,
Frame daintiest luster, mixed of shades and light?
   Or did she else that sober hue device?
In object best to knit and strength our sight,
Lest if no veil those brave gleams did disguise,
They sun-like should more dazzle than delight?
   Or would she her miraculous power show,
That whereas black seems beauty’s contrary,
She even in black doth made all beauties flow?
Both so and thus: she, minding Love should be
   Placed ever there, gave him this mourning weed,
   To honor all their deaths, who for her bleed.

And they say poetry is dead…

#7