Beautified

There is a beauty everyone adores
That melts into itself like caramel cream;
The sort of face, possessing perfect pores,
That looks a superhuman lovely dream.
This sort of face so many fellows deem
To be the ultimate, the beau ideal,
And so indeed to them that face must seem
The maximal expression of appeal.
Yet I prefer to make a different deal
And gaze upon expression and intent
To see in beauty something far more real
Than simple surface, something heaven-sent:
A face that's decorated by a mind
Whose active thought is in expression signed.