Apple of my eye

Ask to my beauty who adores you,

She says, "Apple of my eye."

Her gracious, gorgeous eyes leave few,

She is a soft stream, yet her locks soar high.

Her smile outshines the blush of waking dawn,

And gentler far than April's scented air

The stars grow pale before the night is gone,

Ashamed to rival such celestial fair.

Her voice, a hymn that stills the restless sea,

Each whispered word revives my fainting soul

Love writes its everlasting creed through thee,

And makes the shattered heart again seem whole.

If Heaven sought its fairest grace to prove,

It shaped her face and taught my heart to love.