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 lighten 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,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
George Gordon, Lord Byron
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