Thy form was fair, thine eye was bright,
Thy voice was melody;
Around thee beam'd the purest light
Of love's own sky.
Each word that trembled on thy tongue
Was sweet, was dear to me;
A spell in those soft numbers hung
That drew my soul to thee.
Thy form, thy voice, thine eyes are now
As beauteous and as fair;
But though still blooming is thy brow,
Love is not there.
And though as sweet thy voice be yet,
I treasure not the tone;
It cannot bid my heart forget-
Its tenderness is gone!
Song.-thy Form Was Fair
Louisa Stuart Costello
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Poem topics: heart, light, sky, dear, soul, tongue, bright, treasure, forget, soft, melody, sweet, thine, voice, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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