Classic Poem

Silent she stood before me, in the light
And majesty of beauty; and her eye
Was teeming with the visions of her soul; —
She stood before me in a veil of white,
The image of her bosom's purity,
And loveliness enveloped her, as bright
As when, at set of sun, the clouds unroll,
Pavilioning the dusky throne of night.
There is a spirit in the kindling glance
Of pure and lofty beauty, which doth quell
Each darker passion; and as heroes fell
Before the terror of Minerva's lance,
So beauty, armed with virtue, bows the soul
With a commanding, but a sweet control,
Making the heart all holiness and love,
And lifting it to worlds that shine above,
Until, subdued, we humbly bend before
The idol of our worship to adore.