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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506617" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Her Face.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=506617" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There is a something in her face<br>Which in no other I can trace,<br>And feelings sweet as music stir<br>When I gaze in her dreamy eyes,<br>And breathe a perfume, as it were,<br>From flowers in Paradise.<br>At morn, at noon and night it seems<br>As if I moved by faery streams,<br>A strange light on the leaves and grass;<br>As if her life-breath were the air<br>Through which the magic moments pass<br>In her dream-beauty there.<br>It is thought's paradise which she<br>Inhabits like a mystery,<br>Through which my feelings come and go<br>Like tunes which to her pulses stir;<br>And my life day by day, I trow,<br>Is one sweet dream of her.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Robert+Crawford">Robert Crawford</a></strong></div>

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