The Searched Soul

When I consider, pro and con

What things my love is built upon

A curly mouth; a sinewed wrist

A questioning brow; a pretty twist

Of words as old and tried as sin

A pointed ear; a cloven chin

Long, tapered limbs; and slanted eyes

Not cold nor kind nor darkly wise

When so I ponder, here apart

What shallow boons suffice my heart

What dust-bound trivia capture me

I marvel at my normalcy