BY THOR WALDSEN, IN TRINITY COLLEGE LIBRARY, CAMBRIDGE 'Tis strange that I, who haply might have met Thy living self - who sought to hide the flaws In thy great fame, and, though I ne'er had set Eyes on thee, heard thee singing without pause, And long'd to see thee, should, alas! detect The Thyrza-sorrow first on sculptured brows, And know thee best in marble! Fate allows But this poor intercourse; high and erect Thou hold'st thy head, whose forward glance beholds All forms that throng this learned vestibule; Women and men, and boys and girls from school, Who gaze with admiration all uncheck'd On thy proud lips, and garment's moveless folds, So still, so calm, so purely beautiful! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INTOXICATION by EMILY DICKINSON THE MOTHER IN THE HOUSE by HERMANN HAGEDORN THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: THE FOUR WINDS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW HE WROTE THE HISTORY BOOK,' IT SAID by MARIANNE MOORE THE CAVALIER'S SONG by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL NERVES by ARTHUR WILLIAM SYMONS |