She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be,
Her loveliness I
never knew
Until she smiled on me;
O, then I saw her eye was
bright,
A well of love, a spring of light!
But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they ne'er reply,
And yet I
cease not to behold
The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are
fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are.