Heaven, her dancing ! Dark was her hair, her hand was white ; Her voice was exquisitely tender ; Her eyes were full of liquid light ; I never saw a waist so slender ! Her every look, her every smile, Shot right and left a score of arrows ; I thought 'twas... The poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed, with a memoir by D. Coleridge - Page 138 by Winthrop Mackworth Praed - 1864 Full view -
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