SHE is not fair to outward view,  
  As many maidens be;  
Her loveliness I never knew  
  Until she smiled on me.  
Oh, then I saw her eye was bright,          
well of love, a spring of light.  
  
But now her looks are coy and cold,  
  To mine they ne'er reply,  
And yet I cease not to behold  
  The love-light in her eye:   
Her very frowns are fairer far  
Than smiles of other maidens are.