Lord George Gordon Byron

      SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY, like the night  
                 Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
                 And all that's best of dark and bright  
           Meet in her aspect and her eyes;  
           Thus mellow'd to that tender light  
           Which heaven to gaudy day denies.  

           One shade the more, one ray the less,  
           Had half impair'd the nameless grace,  
           Which waves in every raven tress,  
           Or softly lightens o'er her face;  
           Where thoughts serenely sweet express,  
           How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.  

           And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,  
           So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
           The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  
           But tell of days in goodness spent,  
           A mind at peace at all below,  
           A heart whose love is innocent ! 

This poem was written for Mrs. Robert John Wilmot, Byron's cousin.  When Byron first met her, she was wearing a black dress with spangles because she was in mourning.