She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be,
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smil'd 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.