Fairness.

Fan the twin flames of thy long hair

Life is in raptures of the fair;

Nothing sullies beauty's meadow,

Nor dims the sun's far distant glow.

When the soothing wind whisks away

The seeds of wheat and strands of hay,

When damsels stroll in paths nearby,

And full is cobalt in the sky,

When songbirds sing their tunes of love,

When earth is pleased of God above;

So let the mirrored beauty pass

Like breezes blown amid the grass,

So let the cloudy sculptures speak

Of hands of marble, long and sleek,

Of brows of gold, of pale comport,

Of warming eyes in gentle thought;

And proud compression of the lips

Whereat the nectared lover sips;

Of hues of roses in thy skin,

Of love's stirred rippled dimpled grin,

Of all the percepts beauty gives,

Where pleasure roams and heaven lives.

O here where paradise is air,

Life is in raptures of the fair.