Cradled upon a bosom, whiter far
Than the pure lawn that kerchieft it.
A BEAUTY.
Had a limner's hand
Traced such a heavenly brow, and such a lip,
I would have sworn the knave had dreamt it all
In some fair vision of some fairer world.
See how she stands, all shrined in loveliness;
Her white hands clasped; her clustering locks thrown back
From her high forehead; and in those bright eyes