She Had Amid Her Ringlets Bound Green Leaves To Rival Their Dark Hue; How Could Such Locks With Beauty Bound Dry Up Their Dew, Wither Them Through And Through? She Had Within Her Dark Eyes Lit Sweet Fires To Burn All Doubt Away; Yet Did Those Fires, In Darkness Lit, Burn But A Day, Not Even Till Twilight Stay. She Had Within A Dusk Of Words A Vow In Simple Splendour Set; How, In The Memory Of Such Words, Could She Forget That Vow - The Soul Of It?