She is not fair to outward view, As many maidens be; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. Oh, 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.