'TIS NOT thy flowing hair of orient gold, <br />Nor those bright eyes, like sapphire gems that glow; <br />Nor cheek of blushing rose, nor breast of snow, <br />The varying passions of the heart could hold: <br /> <br />Those locks, too soon, shall own a silv'ry ray, <br />Those radiant orbs their magic fires forego; <br />Insatiate TIME shall steal those tints away, <br />Warp thy fine form, and bend thy beauties low: <br /> <br />But the rare wonders of thy polish'd MIND <br />Shall mock the empty menace of decay; <br />The GEM, that in thy SPOTLESS BREAST enshrin'd, <br />Glows with the light of intellectual ray; <br />Shall, like the Brilliant, scorn each borrow'd aid, <br />And deck'd with native lustre NEVER FADE!<br /><br />Mary Darby Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-inscribed-to-her-grace-the-duchess-of-dev/
