Sonnet, To Genevra
December 17, 1813
Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
And the wan lustre of thy features --- caught
From contemplation - where serenely wrought,
Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despair ---
Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air,
That --- but I know thy blessed bosom fraught
With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought ---
I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care.
With such an aspect, by his colours blent,
When from his beauty-breathing pencil born
(Except that thou hast nothing to repent),
The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn ---
Such seem'st thou --- but how much more excellent !
With nought Remorse can claim --- nor Virtue scorn.