Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/144

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Her eyes, like moonlight melancholy, seem So deep, so spiritual,—such the far light Of stars which are a mystery; like a queen's For grace, and like a swan's for snow, her neck Thrown back so haughtily; and her black robe, Her golden girdle with strange characters, Suit her strange loveliness so well.

Hush, hush! Your thoughtless words sound like impiety. I had not meant to tell her history, But it is best you know it. Never came That portrait here by but a simple chance. She was a princess of the olden time, So beautiful, that kings laid down their crowns