Aphrodite, for so long a time Man’s beloved

Is put to shame and must retire –

No longer, now, the Queen of Beauty

Nor ageless muse to love-struck poets,

For she cannot lift her eyes to compete with thine

And Venus, stepping from her sea-borne shell

Must now yield to you as well.

And, though she be painted in the perfectest light,

Those painters painted but childish daubs

For never they saw your like before

And what of Helen?  Whose but mortal beauty

Did stir Men’s souls to greater glory –

She is dead and gone!

But thou art here and shall live on

No imagined spirit nor mere story