She is not beautiful, but in her eyes
No common spirit manifests itself,
So mild, so gentle, so serenely wise,
Yet gay as that of any dainty elf,
That dances on green turf, by starlit skies;
And such a friend is she, so firm and true,
So free from envy, malice, prejudice,
And constant as the sky's unchanging blue:
She shines like some most lustrous, lovely star,
Which men adore because it dazzles not;—
And though I waste away my life afar,
Yet in this mountainous and savage spot,
I think of her as one who soothed my care,
And did her best to keep me from despair.