I "IS she not fair? Behold, how her hair Haloes her head, and those spirit-blue eyes, See, how they lift to the stars, to the skies! None can compare With her, my lady, the soul in her face Set like a lamp to illumine the place." II "She walks well, and her gown is deftly worn; To-night, she's almost beautiful; the morn Is like to show more plain the path of years; But now, yes, truly, all my doubts and fears Are laid to sleep, and for an hour or two, Ah, foolish me, I dream as others do!" Tell me, Sir Critic, you to error loath, Is one right, or the other -- or are both? |