To me, yea, Iris is invisible, 
the scent of yours all pervading, 
Behold your face all-rich, 
When I close my eyes.
Wordsworth’s daffodils to me, 
Membrane of the eyes, 
that gives light to me, 
Light that misleads the morn.
You are the genus iris, 
with sword-shaped leaves, 
Showy coloured flowers, 
displaying rainbow colours
Your eyes green and deep, 
Deeper than the depth, 
Stilled waters at even, 
those eyes, break of the day.
I see a heart full of love, 
with the gentleness of a dove, 
Feel in her eyes March, 
September in her heart.