Within thine eyes two spirits dwell,
The sweetest and the purest
That ever wove Love's mystic spell,
Or plied his arts the surest:
No smile of morn,
Though heaven-born,
Nor sunshine earthward straying,
E'er charmed the sight
With half the light
That round thy lips is playing.

The stars may shine, the moon may smile,
The earth in beauty languish,
Life's sorrows these can but beguile,
But thou canst heal its anguish.
Thy voice, like rills
Of silver, trills
Such sounds of liquid sweetness,
Each accent rolls
Along our souls,
In lyrical completeness.

If Friendship lend thee such a grace,
That men nor gods may slight it,
How blest the one who views thy face
When Love comes down to light it!
And, oh, if he
Who holds in fee
Thy beauty, truth, and reason,
A traitor prove
To thee and Love,
We'll spurn him for his treason.