O Prose!

BY LORD BYRON (GEORGE GORDON)

She walks in beauty, like the night
   Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

….

   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,
   But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
   A heart whose love is innocent!

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