Say they that all beauty lies
In the paler maiden's hue?
Say they that all softness flies,
Save from the eyes of April blue?
Arise then, like a night in June,
Beautiful Quadroon!
Come,--all dark and bright, as skies
With the tender starlight hung!
Loose the love from out thine eyes!
Loose the angel from thy tongue!
Let them hear heaven's own sweet tune,
Beautiful Quadroon!
Tell them--Beauty (born above)
From no shade nor hue doth fly:
All she asks is mind, is love:
And both upon _thine_ aspect lie,--
Like the light upon the moon,
Beautiful Quadroon.