Not the proudest damsel here br Looks so well as doth my dear. br All the borrowed light of dress br Outshining not her loveliness, br br A loveliness not born of art, br But growing outwards from her heart, br Illuminating all her face, br And filling all her form with grace. br br Said I, of dress the borrowed light br Could rival not her beauty bright? br Yet, looking round, `tis truth to tell, br No damsel here is dressed so well. br br Only in them the dress one sees, br Because more greatly it doth please br Than any other charm that's theirs, br Than all their manners, all their airs. br br But dress in her, although indeed br It perfect be, we do not heed, br Because the face, the form, the air br Are all so gentle and so rare.