Layla

She walks in beauty by Lord Byron She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes: thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, had half impaired the nameless grace which waves in every raven tress, or softly lightens over her face, where thoughts serenely sweet express, how pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and over that brow, so soft, so calm, yet eloquent, the smile that wins, the tints that glow, but tell of days in goodness spent: a mind at peace with all below, a heart whose love in innocent. 读到这首拜伦初次见到表嫂Mrs. Wilmot写下的小诗，脑子里忽然响彻Layla的旋律。