The Blind God

I know not if she be unkind;
If she have faults, I do not care.
Search through the world--where will you find
A face like hers, a form, a mind?--
I love her to despair!

If she be cruel, cruelty
Is a great virtue, I will swear:
If she be proud, then pride must be
Better than all humility.--
I love her to despair!

Why speak to me of that or this?
All you may say weighs not a hair!
To me, naught but perfection is
In her, whose lips I may not kiss!--
I love her to despair!