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.

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.

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.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

The face the index of a feeling mind.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

With faces like dead lovers who died true.

In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.

In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt.

Human face divine.

Human face divine.

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 to lose youth for, to occupy age
With the dream of, meet death with.

A face to lose youth for, to occupy age
With the dream of, meet death with.