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George Gordon Byron - Sonnet, To Genevra
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Thine eyes` blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
  And the wan lustre of thy features­ caught
  From contemplation-where serenely wrought,
 Seems Sorrow`s softness charm`d from its despair--
Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air 
  That--but I know thy blessed bosom fraught
  With mines of unalloy`d and stainless thought--
I should have deem`d thee doom`d to earthly care.
 With such an aspect, by his colours blent,
  When from his beauty-breathing pen­cil born 
(Except that thou hast nothing to repent),
  The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn--
 Such seem`st thou--but how much more excellent!
  With nought Remorse can claim--nor Virtue scorn.
   
December 17, 1813.
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