SHE 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 Than smiles of other maidens are.