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And that loveliness Seem'd scarce of earth, so passionless, So pale, all that the heart could paint Of the pure beauty of a saint. Yes, I have seen  kneel, And seen the rays of evening steal, Lighting the blue depths of her eye With so much of divinity As if her every thought was raised To the bright heaven on which she gazed! Then often I have deem'd her form Rather with light than with life warm.

My father's darken'd brow was glad, My mother's burthen'd heart less sad With her, for she was not of those Who all the heart's affections close