Her eyes, so full of witchery,
Glow like narcissus tenderly.
Her arching brows their magic fling,
Dark as the raven’s glossy wing.
Soft o’er her blooming cheek is spread
The rich pomegranate’s vivid red,
Her musky ringlets unconfined
In clustering meshes roll behind.
Possessed of every sportive wile,
’Tis heaven, ’tis bliss, to see her smile.”