MAH POEME

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 soul 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 lightens across her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How fair, how soft their dwelling place.

And atop her head, sweetly cradled there,

Gently glowing with a simple shimmer

There sat a crown, offset by raven hair:

Black curls against some silver glimmer.

A queen, silent to hold and eager to forbear;

She is the faery queen who makes the moon dimmer.