Her
By Doc Watson
Her mind is an insatiable sponge absorbing all around her.Her intellect is like glass, admitting the light of heaven and reflecting it.Her friendship? oh, her friendship!of all things the most rare, and therefore most rarebecause most excellent; whose comforts in misery are always sweetwhose counsels in prosperity are ever fortunate.nothing is so contagious as her enthusiasm: it is the real allegory of Orpheus;it moves stones, it charms brutes. her enthusiasm is the genius of sincerity,and truth accomplishes nothing without it.i don't think a braver woman, more active-valiant, or more valiant-young,more daring or more bold is now alive,to grace this earth with more noble deeds.when i approach her loveliness,so absolute she seems, and in herself complete,so well to know her own, that what she wills to do or say,seems wisest, most virtuous, discretest...best;all higher knowledge in her presence falls, degraded.wisdom in discourse with her losesher eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shapes, her features,seem to be drawn by Love's own hand;by love,himself in love Written December 2nd, 2001 © on Dec 02 2001 01:02 PM PST 0 • 8
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"Her mind is an insatiable sponge absorbing all around her.Her intellect is like glass, admitting the light of heaven and reflecting it.Her friendship? oh, her friendship!of all things the most rare, and therefore most rarebecause most excellent; whose comforts in misery are always sweetwhose counsels in prosperity are ever fortunate.nothing is so contagious as her enthusiasm: it is the real allegory of Orpheus;it moves stones, it charms brutes. her enthusiasm is the genius of sincerity,and truth accomplishes nothing without it.i don't think a braver woman, more active-valiant, or more valiant-young,more daring or more bold is now alive,to grace this earth with more noble deeds.when i approach her loveliness,so absolute she seems, and in herself complete,so well to know her own, that what she wills to do or say,seems wisest, most virtuous, discretest...best;all higher knowledge in her presence falls, degraded.wisdom in discourse with her losesher eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her shapes, her features,seem to be drawn by Love's own hand;by love,himself in love..."