O lady! thou, who in the olden time <br />Hadst been the star of many a poet's dream! <br />Thou, who unto a mind of mould sublime, <br />Weddest the gentle graces that beseem <br />Fair woman's best! forgive the daring line <br />That falters forth thy praise! nor let thine eye <br />Glance o'er the vain attempt too scornfully; <br />But, as thou read'st, think what a love was mine, <br />That made me venture on a theme, that none <br />Can know thee, and not feel a hopeless one. <br />Thou art most fair, though sorrow's chastening wing <br />Hath past, and left its shadow on thy brow. <br />And solemn thoughts are gently mellowing <br />The splendour of thy beauty's summer now. <br />Thou art most fair! but thine is loveliness <br />That dwells not only on the lip, or eye; <br />Thy beauty, is thy pure heart's holiness; <br />Thy grace, thy lofty spirit's majesty. <br />While thus I gaze on thee, and watch thee glide, <br />Like some calm spirit o'er life's troubled stream, <br />With thy twin buds of beauty by thy side <br />Together blossoming; I almost deem <br />That I behold the loveliness and truth, <br />That like fair visions hovered round my youth, <br />Long sought—and then forgotten as a dream.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mrs-henry-siddons/
