She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climbs and starry skies, at all that's best of dark and bright meat in her aspect and her eyes. Thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to God he dayed in eyes. One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace which waves in every raven dress, or softly lightens or her face, where thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear they're dwelling place. And on that cheek and all that brow so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smiles that win, the tents that glow, but tell of days and goodness spent, a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love is innocent. She walks in beauty by Lord Byron.