A Portrait
In those mild eyes, there is a light
Which dwells not with the evil; and
A calm repose upon thy features, which
Says thou art innocent. Around thee gleaming
There is a robe of more than loveliness,
Of form, and face, and hair: it is the charm
Of most majestic Goodness; which exalts
An earth-born frame into an angel’s stature.
Oh! if this world had many like thyself,
It were a heaven for blessed ones to dwell in.