SHE dwelt apart, as one whom love passed by,
⁠Yet in her heart love glowed with steadfast beam;
⁠And as the moonlight on a wintry stream
With paly radiance doth glorify
All barren things that in its circle lie,
⁠So, from within, love shed so fair a gleam
⁠About her, that it made her desert seem
A paradise, abloom immortally.

Some rashly pitied her; but, to atone,
⁠If one perchance gazed long upon her face,
He grew to feel himself more strangely lone—
⁠Love lent her look such amplitude of grace;
Yet who that would have made that love his own
⁠Aught worthy had to offer in its place?