BEAUTY
“She walks in beauty, like the night…”
Lord Byron
I love her from afar each day,
For she is beauty, good and true;
But I’m a wretched fellow,
One of the fallen crew.
I see the light of Heaven
Shining in her sparkling eyes,
While mine are dull as worn out soil,
Which she would soon despise.
Her hair is dark as raven’s wing,
Glistening in the full moonlight;
Her curves are perfect as the form
Of Eve for Adam’s just delight.
Her beauty’s not an end, you see,
To grasp and firm possess;
Rather a means of seeing—
For one who’s dispossessed.
Beauty’s a means of looking through
To that which lies beyond;
A glimpse of glorious Heaven
For one of Earth not over fond.
les
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[Now for the real thing:]
She Walks in Beauty
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!
COLLECTION
