Is it venial of him
Coming upon that naked body
Sleeping in the bed
To steal a glance
It felt like a mortal blow
All the world can offer
Is it menial of him
To insist upon the soul's
Prerogative to bow to beauty
Wherever it is found
Not made only of stone
But of flesh and blood
To be what she is dreaming
Who she'll love when she awakes
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