She is not fair to outward view
As many ladies be;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me.
O then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they never reply
And yet I cease not to behold
The love - light in her eye:
Her very frowns are fairer far
THen smiles of other ladies are.