Classic Poem

Loves she? She loves not: sue hath never loved.
Her walk is easy; her discourse is neat:
She sigheth not; her smile has mirth in it:
Her gaze is firm, untroubled, cloudless, cold:
No fear makes pale her cheek: No hopeless pain
Lies there; nor hope, half-hidden: No sweet trouble
Stains it with beauty like the rose's leaf:—
But all is free as air, as fresh as youth,
As clear from care as untouched innocence.