Robert Crawford

(1868 - 13 January 1930 / Australia)

Beauty.


Her beauty is the bourne thought cannot pass;
And the angel of the heart's intelligence,
Young Love, might deem that boundary infinite,
So he within the glamour of her eyes,
As in some ether too thin to be weighed,
Might breathe for ever.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 21, 2010

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