She is not fair to outward view,
As many maidens be,
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me:
O, then I saw her eye was bright, -
A well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold;
To mine they ne'er reply;
And yet I cease not to behold,
The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are better far
Than smiles of other maidens are!