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SHE was a Phantom of delight
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
I saw her upon nearer view,
Her household motions light and free,
A countenance in which did meet
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
LET other bards of angels sing,
Heed not tho' none should call thee fair;
So, Mary, let it be
If nought in loveliness compare
With what thou art to me.
True beauty dwells in deep retreats,
Whose veil is unremoved
Till heart with heart in concord beats,
And the lover is beloved.