To my Sister.
SWEET sister, thou art very beautiful,
Thy wild and dark eye-flashes, burns and glows
With glorious spirit-lustre, and a spell
Of deep and holy witchery looks out
From its clear depths in many a glance of love,
A fervid glance of love and loveliness.
Thy pale, pale cheek, o'er which the faintest blush
Of crimson fades out, like the passion breath
Of sunset o'er a snowy cloud; thy pure
High brow, so beautiful, and eloquent,
With the proud majesty of lofty thought;
The waving wealth of midnight hair that floats
Around thy forehead, like a stormy cloud
Round a white monument; thy parting lips
Thy wild and dark eye-flashes, burns and glows
With glorious spirit-lustre, and a spell
Of deep and holy witchery looks out
From its clear depths in many a glance of love,
A fervid glance of love and loveliness.
Thy pale, pale cheek, o'er which the faintest blush
Of crimson fades out, like the passion breath
Of sunset o'er a snowy cloud; thy pure
High brow, so beautiful, and eloquent,
With the proud majesty of lofty thought;
The waving wealth of midnight hair that floats
Around thy forehead, like a stormy cloud
Round a white monument; thy parting lips
