SONG.

She is not fair to outward view,

As many maidens be;

Her loveliness I never knew,

Until she smil’d 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.