quinta-feira, 23 de fevereiro de 2012


by: George Gordon (Lord) Byron (1788-1824)
      HE walks in beauty, like the night
      Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
      And all that's best of dark and bright
      Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
      Thus mellow'd to that tender light
      Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
      One shade the more, one ray the less,
      Had half impair'd the nameless grace
      Which waves in every raven tress,
      Or softly lightens o'er her face;
      Where thoughts serenely sweet express
      How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
      And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
      So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
      The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
      But tell of days in goodness spent,
      A mind at peace with all below,
      A heart whose love is innocent!

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