VII
When I was young my beauty was unfurled,A fluttering banner waving to the world,Its brightness stolen by each errant eyeIn brief indifference of larceny.
Were my eyes bright? Their brightness was not mine.Bravely they shone as they were taught to shine,Scattering sparks without a thought or careThat hearts may perish—can the fair be fair?
My smiling lips, did they belong to me?When all the world stood on tiptoe to seeWhat they could capture, and if beauty canBlossom imprisoned in the eyes of man.
My face was stolen every night and day,Some snatched it roughly, and some slunk awayTaking a treasure they could not redeem,Locking my image in a secret dream—
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