Classic Poem

A thousand faces, and not one like hers.
I looked upon them all. I looked, and felt
That every feature had its worshippers.
But there were none to whom my heart had knelt,
To offer its devotion; none were there
That made me tremble, as the idol stirs
The feelings of its devotee; no eyes
With their dark beauty, to inflame the soul,
And make it risk its portion in the skies,
One welcome look of their soft light to share.
Oh! if the ransomed spirits, from their goal
In Paradise, did yearn to visit earth,
Enslaved by loveliest maids of mortal birth;
If woman's eyes seduced them down from heaven,
Surely weak, erring man, may sometimes dare
To worship too, and hope to be forgiven!