Poezja

(after Lord George Gordon Byron)
 
The soft glowing radiance of her face
with hair tumbling down in a auburn tress
brings to her a unnamed kind of grace,
her thoughts do only loveliness express
as she walks with a kind of innocence
and when I meet the glance of her dear eyes
in them I can find no kind of offence,
any self-centeredness, her expressions denies,
they twinkle like the sun, like starry skies.