True Beauty
I watched true beauty as the bus rode past
The landscape Oxfordshire rolled out. The nose
Sat nobler than the slopes that will outlast
Him, but its shape turned hillsides into prose.
Those poems, though they now were only thought
In paragraphs, competed using trees
Against dark, stout, aristocratic, taut
Nostrils. Skin’s richest brown spoke like decrees
Against so so-ness of this England, sheep
And munching horses. Lashes, black on eyes,
Were thick like Merlin’s forests and gave steep
Forebodings. Loveliness was their surprise.
..His thick cut hair made heartbeats leap in flight.
….I never knew true beauty till this sight.