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 mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half iapair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in ever raven tress,
Or softly lightens over her face.
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
The pure, how dear their dwelling place.
And on that cheek, and over the 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!
~George Gordon. Lord Byron
