She walks in Beauty, like the
night
Of cloudless climes and starry
skies;
And all that's best of dark and
bright
Meet in her aspect and her
eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender
light
Which Heaven to gaudy day
denies.
One shade the more, one ray the
less,
Had half impaired the nameless
grace
Which waves in every raven
tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her
face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet
express,
How pure, how dear their
dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er
that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints
that glow,
But tell of days in goodness
spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!