Vestal

She dwelt apart, as one whom love passed by,Yet in her heart love glowed with steadfast beam;And as the moonlight on a wintry streamWith paly radiance doth glorifyAll barren things that in its circle lie,So, from within, love shed so fair a gleamAbout her, that it made her desert seemA paradise, abloom immortally.

Some rashly pitied her; but, to atone,If one perchance gazed long upon her face,He grew to feel himself more strangely lone—Love lent her look such amplitude of grace;Yet who that would have made that love his ownAught worthy had to offer in its place?