I'm staring at her neck.  At first, I did so
Absent-mindedly, the picture of a sorry
Twit whose thoughts had curtained off
His eyes, but now I savor what's before me.
Such a thing!  A piece of her which went
Unnoticed until now, but equals in its
Loveliness the parts I've always dwelt
Upon.  I see no reason to alert her.  If I did,
She'd turn, and, though I love her face, her
Eyes, her lips, her pointed chin and single
Dimple, I'd lose sight of what, for now,
I think I must love most.