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SHE WAS NOT FAIR

By
Bryan Waller Procter
( a.k.a. -- Barry Cornwall )
1787 - 1874


&/\&/\&

She was not fair, nor full of grace,

Nor crown'd with thought or aught beside,

No wealth had she of mind or face,

To win our love or raise our pride;

No lover's thought her cheek did touch

No poet's dream was round her thrown:

And yet we miss her, --- ah !   too much,

Now she hath flown.
 

We miss her when the morning calls,

As one that mingled in our mirth;

We miss her when the evening falls, ---

A trifle wanted on the earth:

Some fancy small or subtle thought

Is check'd ere to its blossom grown,

Some chain is broken that we wrought, ---

Now she hath flown.
 

No solid good nor hope defined

Is marr'd now she hath sunk in night;

And yet the strong immortal Mind

Is stopp'd in its triumphant flight.

Stern friend !   what power is in a tear,

What strength in one poor thought alone,

When all we know is --- She was here

And She hath flown !

&/\&/\&


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