| She walks in beauty,
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| like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
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| And all that’s best of dark and bright
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| Meet in her aspect and her eyes,
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| Thus mellow’d to that tender light,
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| Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
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| One shade the more, one ray the less
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| Had half impair’d the nameless grace
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| Which waves in every raven tress
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| Or softly lightens o’er her face.
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| Where thoughts serenely sweet express
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| How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
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| And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
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| So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
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| The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
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| But tell of days in goodness spent,
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| A mind at peace with all below,
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| A heart whose love is innocent! |