194 
Her boasted beauty shrivels and decays. 
And outward show, her only gift, is gone. 
Now look ye on the plain and modest guise 
Of yon unlovely ^owex—^inlovely P —no — 
Not beautiful, ’tis true—not touched with hues 
Like her’s we late have gazed on; but so rich 
In precious fragi'ance is that lowly one. 
So loved for her sweet qualities, that I 
Should woo her first amid a world of flowers; 
For she is like some few beloved ones here. 
Whom eyes, perchance, might slightingly pass o’er, 
But whose ti’ue wisdom, gentleness, and worth. 
Unchanging friendship, ever-faithful love. 
And countless minor beauties of the mind. 
Attach our hearts in deep affection still. 
