Her eyes-upon a summer's day
God's skies are not more blue than they.
Her hair-you've seen a sunbeam bold
Made up of just such threads of gold.
Her cheek-the leaf which nearest grows
The dewy heart of June's red rose.
Her mouth-full lipped, and subtly sweet
As brier drowned in summer heat.
Her heart-December's chill and snow;
Heaven pity me, who love her so!