Lo! she turns⁠—immortal youth

Wrought to mortal stature,

Fresh as starlight’s aged truth⁠—

Many-named Nature!

Black eyes you have left, you say, Blue eyes fail to draw you; Yet you seem more rapt today, Than of old we saw you.

Oh, I track the fairest fair Through new haunts of pleasure; Footprints here and echoes there Guide me to my treasure: