You''re the shoulder I lean on,
the hand that I hold,
The eyes with the message
That never grows old,
The smile that is part of
Each warm memory -
You''re everything special
That means love to me.
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.
