The light upon her face
Shines from the windows of another world.
Saints only have such faces.

The light upon her face
Shines from the windows of another world.
Saints only have such faces.

Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
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Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
In snowy milk the bashful rose.

Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
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Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
Asleep, and waiting for the opening day,
When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face.

As clear and as manifest as the nose in a man's face.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.

And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.

In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.

In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.

Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.

Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.