Untitled Metaphor #3

(Each Friday I post one of my poems.)

What can be compared,
Among all my Lord has made,
In beauty to my beloved?
Her movements are fairer
Than the scent of the trees;
The words of her eyes are deeper
Than the sound of the flowers of the forest.
The geometry of her upraised arm
Is as appealing as
The texture of the celestial spheres,
Whose structured sound
Casts a shadow into her voice.
Her face is like a well-wrought simile,
Rich, yet precise, and
Rarely hearing the praise deserved it.
Oh, tell me, what symbols can I study
That I may understand
The mathematics of my beloved’s splendor?

I wrote this poem early in my sophomore year; I suspect it was one of the few “untitled metaphors” that I wrote intentionally, rather than saying, “This would sort of fit in that series, and I can’t think of a good title …”, and I think that shows. I’ve made some slight revisions since then, but the essential character remains. In any case, I’ve now also posted this to my wiki. And, as always, I eagerly request and greatly appreciate your feedback of any kind (though the more substantial the better), including comments, questions, critique, or suggestions (especially of what to post next, since I’m running out of old material).

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