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Literary Gazette, 15th March 1823, Page 171
Of the delicious drooping lid
Which half her soft eye's lustre hid!
Ah, Woman has no look so sweet
As that, when, half afraid to meet
The look she loves, blushes betray
All the suppressed glance would say.
'Tis a sweet picture! But what shade
Would not be lovely, which pourtrayed
Genius and love, the union bright
Of meteor-flash and soft moonlight?[1]
- ↑ Signature after later poem
