He who is in love
is wise and is becoming wiser,
sees newly every time he
looks at the object beloved,
drawing from it with his eyes
and his mind those virtues
which it possesses.
Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity.
Love looks not with the eye, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
I wish i was one of your tear,
I would star in your eyes,
Live on your cheeks,
Die on your lips,
But if you were one of my tear,
I would never cry for the fear of losing you.....
See there''s this place in me where your fingerprints still rest,
your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo.
It''s the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me. . .
