Classic Poem

My Sibyl hath a dainty look
Of spiritual grace,
Serene as yonder limpid brook
That ripples through the chase;

Where, when at night the merry stars
Upon its waters play,
Their peering eyes find naught that mars
Its clearness through the day.

But they at dawn their glories hide,
Whilst Sibyl's look benign
Beams fair, as 'neath that mimic tide
Its sun-kissed pebbles shine.