Hers was an aspect singularly mild

Hers was an aspect singularly mild, With radiant brow deep-arched, obscurely clear, And dark affrayed eyes, half-meek, half-wild, That told the fount of pity welling near. Twice gazed you on that face ere ’twould appear That Time had all too early cast his pall O’er the bright blooms that Youth and Beauty wear; For mingled there hope, grief, doubt, fear, and all That turn the human heart to tenderness—or gall.