They Know Not My Heart.

A poem by Thomas Moore

They know not my heart, who believe there can be
One stain of this earth in its feelings for thee;
Who think, while I see thee in beauty's young hour,
As pure as the morning's first dew on the flower,
I could harm what I love,--as the sun's wanton ray
But smiles on the dew-drop to waste it away.

No--beaming with light as those young features are,
There's a light round thy heart which is lovelier far:
It is not that cheek--'tis the soul dawning clear
Thro' its innocent blush makes thy beauty so dear:
As the sky we look up to, tho' glorious and fair,
Is looked up to the more, because Heaven lies there!

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