Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
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Her face betokened all things dear and good,
The light of somewhat yet to come was there
Asleep, and waiting for the opening day,
When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.

Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
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Cheek . . .
Flushing white and mellow'd red;
Gradual tints, as when there glows
In snowy milk the bashful rose.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many millions of
faces there should be none read more

It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many millions of
faces there should be none alike.

Oh! could you view the melody
Of every grace,
And music of her face,
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Oh! could you view the melody
Of every grace,
And music of her face,
You'd drop a tear,
Seeing more harmony
In her bright eye,
Than now you hear.

And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.

And her face so fair
Stirr'd with her dream, as rose-leaves with the air.

There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is read more

There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow.
There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.

A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this
particular! Some of them speak read more

A face that had a story to tell. How different faces are in this
particular! Some of them speak not. They are books in which not
a line is written, save perhaps a date.

There be many that say, Who will shew us any good? Lord, lift
thou up the light of thy read more

There be many that say, Who will shew us any good? Lord, lift
thou up the light of thy countenance upon us.