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129
TO IONE.
Thy deeply-chiselled brows,—thy twilight eyesUpraised in gentle seriousness,—thy hair
Whose long black weight makes more than marble fair
The smooth brow and white bust whereon it lies,—
Have given thy loveliness that tone we prize
For its attractive awe—that deep serene
Solemnity of sweetness, which is seen
In dark blue zenith depths of Alpine skies!
The untamed Life of young pure Thought, in thee,
So gently bold, so innocently free,
Seems mellowed to a glowing still repose,
A fervent calm its holiness bestows,—
A look half rapture and half awe—meek fire
We know not most to love, to worship, or admire!
January 31, 1832.
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