There is a something in her face <br />Which in no other I can trace, <br />And feelings sweet as music stir <br />When I gaze in her dreamy eyes, <br />And breathe a perfume, as it were, <br />From flowers in Paradise. <br />At morn, at noon and night it seems <br />As if I moved by faery streams, <br />A strange light on the leaves and grass; <br />As if her life-breath were the air <br />Through which the magic moments pass <br />In her dream-beauty there. <br />It is thought's paradise which she <br />Inhabits like a mystery, <br />Through which my feelings come and go <br />Like tunes which to her pulses stir; <br />And my life day by day, I trow, <br />Is one sweet dream of her.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-face-6/
