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If mutable is she I love,
If rising doubts demand their place,
I would adjure them not to move
Beyond her fascinating face.


Let it be question'd, while there flashes
A liquid light of fleeting blue,
Whether it leaves the eyes or lashes,
Plays on the surface or peeps through.


With every word let there appear
So modest yet so sweet a smile,
That he who hopes must gently fear,
Who fears may fondly hope the while.