A sad and lovely face, with upturned eye,
Tearless, yet full of grief.—How heavenly fair,
How saint-like is the look these features wear!
Such sorrow is more lovely in its guise
Than joy itself, for underneath it lies
A calmness that betokens strength to bear
Earth's petty grievances—its toil and care:—
A spirit that can look through clouded skies,
And see the blue beyond.—Type of that grace
That lit Her holy features from whose womb
Issued the blest Redeemer of our race—
How little dost thou speak of earthly gloom!
As little as the unblemished Queen of Night,
When envious clouds shut out her silver light.