With something more than fancy can create,
So full of life, so warm, so passionate.
Young beauty, sweetly didst thou paint the deep
Intense affection woman’s heart will keep
More tenderly than life! I see thee now,
With thy white-wreathed arms, thy pensive brow,
Standing so lovely in thy sorrowing.
I’ve sometimes read, and closed the page divine,
Dreaming what that Italian girl might be,
Yet ne’er imagined look or tone more sweet than thine.’”