She walks in beauty, like nothing
E'er spoken but lisp'd and stuttered;
Volumes gathered to her being
Are no more than pages tattered;
One Word so eloquently stings
to say all that really mattered.
A word the more betrays the thought
To say less with such impurity;
Beauty like this for ages sought
Was found not for such depravity;
Yet in grace was it for her bought
By heaven's magnanimity.
And on her cheek, to marrow's core,
Great and greatness are to me told;
Seen within her is heaven's door
Wide open, spewing heaven's hold;
Worn is a smile bidding more,
Breaking through to the darkest cold.
Wow. I think I like this poem better than Byron's. It's... beautiful.
ReplyDelete