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The light upon her face
Shines from the windows of another world.
Saints only have such faces.
The light upon her face
Shines from the windows of another world.
Saints only have such faces.
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.
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.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
The face the index of a feeling mind.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face.
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.
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on read more
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and phantoms of myself.
