Only rarely a soul might find
A shape as dear and heart so kind,
A woman’s being as well-disposed,
As yours are to mine.
What's more! that a woman's form and soul,
Like angels’ elements,
Should glimmer and reverberate
With the subdued brilliance
Of a creature hallowed
And near to what's divine,
While I should be so graced
To notice that vague immortal trace
That sits anonymously on your figure;
To dwell in its shimmer, graced,
Amid our everyday discourse and simple pace,
Breathless, buoyant, and charmed
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