I LOOKED on her but once while in This changing world she stayed, But from my brain no power can win The image which was made. Still from the walls of memory It hangs, and ever seems Like one which used to smile on me In childhood's holy dreams. Her delicate but stately form, Her spiritual, large eye, The words she spoke, survive the storm, The things that cannot die. Earth was to her so undefiled, So cheerful was her duty, She was to me a mortal child Clothed with immortal beauty. And since they told me that she slept The sleep that knows no waking, My heart, which still her image kept, Has silently been breaking.