SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that’s best of dark and bright
And all that’s best of dark and bright
And all that’s best of dark and bright
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
Small, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals,
And their faint cracklings o’er our silence creep
Like whispers of the household gods that keep
A gentle empire o’er fraternal souls.
And while for rhymes I search around the poles,
Your eyes are fixed, as in poetic sleep,
Upon the lore so voluble and deep,
That aye at fall of night our care condoles.
This is your birthday, sheyn, and I rejoice
That thus it passes smoothly, quietly:
Many such eves of gently whispering noise
May e together pass, and calmly try
What are this world’s true joys, -ere the great Voice
From its fair face shall bid our spirits fly.
PS: ASA whatever… 
