She walks in beauty, like the night

She walks in beauty, like the night   
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,   
And all that's best of dark and bright   
Meets in her aspect and her eyes;   
Thus mellow'd to that tender light            
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.   
 
One shade the more, one ray the less,   
Had half impair'd the nameless grace   
Which waves in every raven tress   
Or softly lightens o'er her face,    
Where thoughts serenely sweet express   
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.   
 
And on that cheek and o'er that brow   
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,   
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,    
But tell of days in goodness spent,—   
A mind at peace with all below,   
A heart whose love is innocent.

Lord Byron