She's passing fair; but so demure is she
So quiet is her gown, so smooth her hair
That few there are who note her and agree
She's passing fair

Yet when was ever beauty held more rare
Than simple heart and maiden modesty?
What fostered charms with virtue could compare?

Alas, no lover ever stops to see
The best that she is offered is the air
Yet- if the passing mark is minus D
She's passing fair.