Pearls from the sea, br diamonds from the mountain. br White gold from the river's start, br beauties where we found them. br br Poems from a scented pen, br written out on finest vellum. br Passages to a lonely heart, br with doors that seem always open. br br All these are but transient things, br filling melancholy moments. br True poetry lies in sonnets of eyes, br rhyming rhythms of tender caresses.