Where doth thy beauty hide?
Virgin so divine, so white.
Walking with grace, thy dress so lovely.
Aye, all eyes stunned with glee.
She that sways like a swan,
Thy garbs as radiant as the sun.
She who is clothed in narrow silhuette,
Every season she hath dressings fit.
That which her purity lies,
In crystals adorned with pride.
Royal as she that glides,
On ramp thine eyes see with delight.
Last Virgin of Renaissance thou must claim,
Thy shiny brocade take the monarch on tame.
White as snow, crystal clear as water,
Thy dress, thy beauty, beyond compare.- Butz Fuentes
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| Mr. Albert Andrada |
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