Classic Poem

My love is not a beauty
To other eyes than mine;
Her curls are not the fairest,
Her eyes are not divine:
Nor yet like rose-buds parted,
Her lips of love may be;
But though she's not a beauty,
She's dear as one to me.

Her neck is far from swan-like,
Her bosom unlike snow;
Nor walks she like a deity
This breathing world below:
Yet there's a light of happiness
Within, which all may see;
And though she's not a beauty,
She's dear as one to me.

I would not give the kindness,
The grace, that dwells in her ,
For all that Cupid's blindness
In others might prefer!
I would not change her sweetness
For pearls of any sea;
For better far than beauty
Is one kind heart to me.