Hartley Coleridge.

She is not fair to outward view

As other maidens be;

Her loveliness I never knew,

Until she smiled on me.

Oh! then I saw her eye was bright,

A well of love, a spring of light,

But now her looks are coy and cold,

To mine they ne’er reply;

And yet I cease not to behold

The love-light in her eye.

Her very frowns are fairer far,

Than smiles of other maidens are.