She is not fair to outward view,
  As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew
  Until she smiled on me:
O, then I saw her eye was bright,—
A well of love, a spring of light.

But now her looks are coy and cold;
  To mine they ne’er reply;
And yet I cease not to behold
  The love-light in her eye:
Her very...