1r:1
1St Jerome’s love.1

2Who is the maid my spirit seeks
3Through cold reproof, and slanders blight –
4'Has she loves roses on her cheeks?
5Is her’s an eye of calm delight?
6No – wan and sunk with midnight prayer
7Are the pale looks of her I love
8And if by times a light be there
9That light is kindled from above.–

10I choose not her mine hearts elect
11’Mongst those that seek their Makers shrine
12In gems and garlands proudly decked
13As if themselves were things divine.–
14No, heaven but faintly warms the breast
15That beats beneath a broidered veil.
16And she, who comes in glittering dress
17To mourn her frailty – yet is frail.–

18Not so the faded form I prize
19And love because her bloom is gone
20The glory of those sainted eyes
21Is all the dress her brow puts on.–
22But ne’er was beauties bloom so bright,
23So touching as that forms decay
24Which as the altars wavering light
25In holy lustre fades away.–

26Harriet Beecher Stowe.

 1r:2 [sketch A]
4 cheeks? < cheek? Corresponding to the original text.
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