by Luis G. Dato
“Tis said that love is blind — but not its eyes,
Since sight of beauty all induces it,
Nor call love so because for want of wit,
Hell it confuses with its Paradise.
Call not love blind — for it to realize
That in the lovely woman bliss is writ
For man to relish ever, every bit,
For him to want and woo her, these comprise
Authentic vision. Rather let us say
Love’s a wayfarer with all-sensient sight,
Whose eyes are open, loves the fair he sees,
Forms beautiful his deathless soul’s delight,
His stimuli of passion, youth’s release.
He is not blind who sees in you his light,
Balm for his heart, his sorrows’ sweet surcease.
