She

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 mellowed to the tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One ray the more, one shade the less

Had half impaired 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 with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.

-- Lord Byron, (George Gordon)

Dedicated to someone special