She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and light

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender night,

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair’d 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 smile that wins, the tint that glows,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

–Lord Byron

 

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