An eye for that which rates above

The rarest art that moves the soul

Beholding that deserving grand

I have such vision, I am such man.

Forsaken eye, which does not see

The fairest frames or curtaining

I'm blinded not for my remiss

But lack of lace and gleaned bodice.

Nor that the fore is all I miss

The dearth it carries on

The eyes tear near to misery

Accoutrements are none to see.

A glimpse of promise from beneath

Reverie inducing, eyes do stare

Proud production, this maiden's dare

To tease and titillate for that she wears.

Alas I fear the end of days

Whilst I will see no more

Such classic taste, mine lays in waste

The finest creation wrapped up in haste.

For is there the finer of she I saw

I'll disclose there could never be

Art so divine, mine eyes inclined

Spellbound at her art enshrined!