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XXVIII : Elle Marche en BeautéShe walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
ㅤㅤㅤOne shade the more, one ray the less,
ㅤㅤㅤHad half impaired the nameless grace
ㅤㅤㅤWhich waves in every raven tress,
ㅤㅤㅤOr softly lightens o'er her face;
ㅤㅤㅤWhere thoughts serenely sweet express,
ㅤㅤㅤHow pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
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