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by: Hartley Coleridge (1796-1849)

HE is not fair to outward view

As many maidens be,

Her loveliness I never knew

Until she smiled on me;

O, then I saw her eye was bright,

A well of love, a spring of light!

 

But now her looks are coy and cold,

To mine they ne'er reply,

And yet I cease not to behold

The love-light in her eye:

Her very frowns are fairer far

Then smiles of other maidens are.

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