Walk.

She walks in beauty, like a night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade more, one ray less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens over her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and over 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!