Perfection rolled into a golden eye

Smooth as glass, as silk, as sky

Weighed in gold, it holds down the hand

A joy to behold, a gleaming band

Gazing with round, hollow stare:

Steady, unblinking, blank as air

So small, so cold, irreplaceable

A thrill to own, a jewel in the palm

Kept close to the heart, far from harm

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And to each caress it but holds its gaze

As if it spoke speechless to one's soul

With all the blank regard of its eye

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And no matter what is said it is a joy to heed

Listening laced with darkest pleasures dreamed

Fate's blessed gift, a joy to cherish

To treasure, to pleasure, to protect my precious

My one, my only, my very own

Mine in my hand and mine alone!

Mine to use, mine to guard, mine to see, mine to hide

To hide away from prying eyes

To secure, to treasure above all things

Be they splendors of earth or wealth of kings

Mine, my own!

It belongs to me, it came to me, by rights it's mine!

They have no right!

Beloved; it came to me!

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(Oh mercy! where's the world gone?!)

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My love! My love . . .

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So bright . . .

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. . . So beautiful

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My Precious.