I SHE was a Phantom of delight To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; I saw her upon nearer view, A countenance in which did meet Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. B And now I see with eye serene 1804 II LET other bards of angels sing, Heed not tho' none should call thee fair; So, Mary, let it be If nought in loveliness compare With what thou art to me. True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, |