कार्मेल #9 (a new series for 2025)

O gentle maid, with visage fair and bright,
Thine eyes like stars do gleam in twilight's haze,
Yet in thy heart dwells doubt, a shadowed plight,
Thou know'st not how thy grace doth all amaze.

Thy laughter rings as bells in morning's dew,
Each step thou tak'st doth bloom where e'er thou tread,
But lo, thine own esteem doth falsely rue,
Unseen by thee, thy worth in glory spread.

What mirror dims the truth of thy sweet frame?
No glass could hold the measure of thy soul,
Yet still thou wander'st, blind to thy own fame,
As if no light within could make thee whole.

The roses blush to match thy cheek's soft hue,
The lark’s sweet song aspireth to thy voice,
O maiden, would thou knew what all construe,
That in thy being, heavens do rejoice.

Thy kindness weaves a thread through hearts around,
Thy spirit lifts the weary from their woe,
Yet thou dost deem thy gifts of small renown,|
Unwitting of the splendour thou bestow.

Awake, fair one, and see with clearer sight,
Embrace the truth that shineth in thee still,
For thou art wrought of beauty, love, and light,
A marvel rare, to crown the world’s goodwill.

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