Page:Landon in Literary Gazette 1823.pdf/31



Of the delicious drooping lid Which half her soft eye's lustre hid! Ah, Woman has no look so sweet As that, when, half afraid to meet The look she loves, blushes betray All the suppressed glance would say. 'Tis a sweet picture! But what shade Would not be lovely, which pourtrayed Genius and love, the union bright Of meteor-flash and soft moonlight?