If mutable is she I love,
If rising doubts demand their place,
I would adjure them not to move
Beyond her fascinating face. Let it be question'd, while there flashes
A liquid light of fleeting blue,
Whether it leaves the eyes or lashes,
Plays on the surface or peeps through. With every word let there appear
So modest yet so sweet a smile,
That he who hopes must gently fear,
Who fears may fondly hope the while.