Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/164

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I see her now. How more than beautiful She paces yon broad terrace!—The free wind Has lifted the soft curls from off her cheek, Which yet it crimsons not,—the pure, the pale,— Like a young saint. How delicately carved The Grecian outline of her face!—but touch'd With a more spiritual beauty, and more meek. Her large blue eyes are raised up to the heav'ns, Whose hues they wear, and seem to grow more clear As the heart fills them. There, those parted lips,— Prayer could but give such voiceless eloquence,— Shining like snow her clasp'd and earnest hands, She seems a dedicated nun, whose heart Is God's own altar. By her side I feel As in some holy place. My best love, mine, Blessings must fall on one like thee!