Sonnet, To Genevra

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
  And the wan lustre of thy features­ caught
  From contemplation-where serenely wrought,
Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despair--
Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air
  That--but I know thy blessed bosom fraught
  With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought--
I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care.
With such an aspect, by his colours blent,
  When from his beauty-breathing pen­cil born
(Except that thou hast nothing to repent),
  The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn--
Such seem'st thou--but how much more excellent!
  With nought Remorse can claim--nor Virtue scorn.
 
December 17, 1813.