A Portrait

In those mild eyes, there is a light Which dwells not with the evil; and A calm repose upon thy features, which Says thou art innocent. Around thee gleaming There is a robe of more than loveliness, Of form, and face, and hair: it is the charm Of most majestic Goodness; which exalts An earth-born frame into an angel's stature. Oh! if this world had many like thyself, It were a heaven for blessed ones to dwell in.