JASMINE, INDIAN. 
“She walks in beauty like the Night.” 
Come, all dark and bright as skies 
With the tender starlight hung, 
Loose the Love from out thine eyes, 
Loose the Angel from thy tongue. 
Tell them, Beauty born above, 
From no shade, nor hue doth fly, 
All she asks is Mind, is Love; 
And both upon thine aspect lie. 
Barry Cornwall. 
The bird, whose song impassioned, 
The soul of music, wildly sighs, 
Wears not a wing that’s fashioned 
In Beauty’s radiant dyes. 
The flowers of fragrance lavish, 
Like Love from out a guileless heart, 
No glorious hues to ravish 
The common eye impart. 
The lips like rubies glowing, 
Too often curl with scorn and pride, 
The smile most brightly showing, 
A careless heart may hide. 
But cheeks we prize most dearly, 
And eyes most sure the soul to win, 
Though Beauty light them rarely, 
Are kindled from within! 
F. S. 0. 
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