The Shape alone let others prize,
The features of the fair:
I look for spirit in her eyes,
And meaning in her air.
A damask cheek, an ivory arm,
Shall ne’er my wishes win:
Give me an animated form,
That speaks a mind within.
A face where awful honor shines,
Where sense and sweetness move,
And angel...
The Summer that we did not prize,
Her treasures were so easy
Instructs us by departing now
And recognition lazy —
Bestirs itself — puts on its Coat,
And scans with fatal promptness
For Trains that moment out of sight,
Unconscious of his smartness.
We shun because we prize her Face
Lest sight's ineffable disgrace
Our Adoration stain
