Classic Poem

WHEREIN HER EVERY GESTURE IS DIVINE

Love and I, both filled with marvelling,
As one who sees a thing incredible,
Look on this one that laughs or casts a spell
Of speech, this lovely and unrivalled thing.
From the sweet brows that spread a perfect wing
So gleam my stars they make a Heaven of Hell,
Give the blind lamps, the deaf a silver bell,
The mute a tongue to blow Love trumpeting!
What miracle it is when on the grass
She sits like some white flower, or to her brave
Unsullied bosom will some green spray press!
How sweet, when April trembles from the grave,
To watch her, with her own thoughts, solely pass,
Weaving a garland in her hair's gold wave!