Poems (Hardy)/A cameo
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A CAMEO
SHE bowed her head above a book;
I saw her face in shade;
The beauty of her tranquil look
The book's reflection made.
I saw her face in shade;
The beauty of her tranquil look
The book's reflection made.
Her hand lay white upon the page,
Her hair, dull gold, hung low;
Or whether bard she read, or sage,
Little I cared to know.
Her hair, dull gold, hung low;
Or whether bard she read, or sage,
Little I cared to know.
A pleasant picture, purely set,
Its mood all fair, though grave,
The virtue of an amulet
To my remembrance gave.
Its mood all fair, though grave,
The virtue of an amulet
To my remembrance gave.