She 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.



On 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 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 tells of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!



George Gordon, Lord Byron (one of my clansmen, thank you - explains my love of pirate shirts with big, flouncy sleeves I reckon)