To the one whose presence can't be denied,
the one to the eye has mystified.
You have no castle, no subjects, no knights,
still you have your many delights.
No jewels upon your brow or fingers,
in air about you no perfume lingers.
No hidden riches of diamond or gold,
no secrets you have to remain untold.
No hats of satin with plumes you wear,
no fancy nets or pins to hold your hair.
No horses or servants to do your bidding,
no lady in waiting beside you sitting.
No lute you hear, no bells that ring,
your only music is what you sing.
Your lips curve to a cheery smile,
the sparkle in your eyes shines all the while.
Your voice so peaceful, calm, and content,
your hands so gentle, soft, and innocent.
No objects you need for fascination,
true beauty needs no decoration.