I love your skinny legs, your sunken cheek,
Your hair like strands of wire, and though you are
Disposed to frown, aloof, not tame, nor meek,
I\'d sooner have you than beauty by far.
For beauty is a passing thing, ne\'er pleased,
A malcontent, once praised, ne\'er satisfied,
A toy, a bauble, nearly always seized
With its own perfection, consumed with pride.
Ah! You are bent, and old, but in my sight
Beautiful, such a star, a lovely book
In which I read the days and deeds now past,
The scars, the truths, the agony surpassed.
The bravery that now hangs in your look,
Tells the world you are still ready to fight.