My Choice

The shape alone let others prize,
Or jealous of the fair
I look for spirit in her eyes,
And meaning in her air.

A damask cheek, a snowy arm
Shall ne’er my wishes win,
Give me the animated form
That speaks the mind within.

A face when awful honour shines,
Where sense and sweetness move,
And angel innocence refines
The tenderness of love.

These are the soul of beauty’s frame,
Without whose vital aid
Unfinish’d all her features seem,
And all her roses fade.