(revised and reposted)

The youthful beauty of an unlined face,
Unsullied by the use that lies ahead
Has still the freshness of an unturned page.
A book to show its worth must have been read.
True fairness shows when beauty dwells within,
No need to fear effects of time's swift pace.
Though chance of fate can its bright radiance dim
And leave sad mark on that beloved face.
Beauty untried is beauty quite unearned;
Fair to behold with worthiness unproved.
The cherished face with lines of living burned
Will to true lover surely be more loved.
The beauty not reflected in the glass
Remains when more apparent charms shall pass.

Joyce