Sonnet 068
Laijon Liu 20160422
Lion’s mane, love’s tress, garlands of laurel flower
When the golden crowns were set upon rightful heads
Before the bastard heirs claimed the throne
And somehow honored by common’s bow
When the silky glamour of old flare gone
Its sweet perfumes were dissipated
To live as memory on others names
That beauty’s image for many copies’ gain
Still the beauty’s originality displays
Its unique, headstrong glorious spirit
No need of artificial color to decorate
The splendors of its old summer days
Nature with all her treasures she does store
And maps reveal nothing, they can’t draw
