Eyes, that commune with the frank skies of truth,
Beneath their cloud-like curls;
Lips of immortal rose, where joy and youth
Nestle like priceless pearls;
Hair, that suggests the Bible braids of Ruth,
Deeper than any girl’s.
When first I saw her, ’t was as if within
My gaze took shape some song—
Played by a master of the violin—
A music, pure and strong,
That rapt my soul above all earthly sin
To heights that know no wrong.