JUST the airiest, fairiest slip of a thing, With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly's wing, Tilted up at one side with the jauntiest air, And a knot of red roses sewn in under there Where the shadows are lost in her hair. Then a cameo face, carven in on a ground Of that shadowy hair where the roses are wound; And the gleam of a smile, O as fair and as faint And as sweet as the masters of old used to paint Round the lips of their favorite saint! And that lace at her throat -- and the fluttering hands Snowing there, with a grace that no art understands, The flakes of their touches -- first fluttering at The bow -- then the roses -- the hair -- and then that Little tilt of the Gainsborough hat. Ah, what artist on earth with a model like this, Holding not on his palette the tint of a kiss, Nor a pigment to hint of the hue of her hair Nor the gold of her smile -- O what artist could dare To expect a result half so fair? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...APRIL BYEWAY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN NUMPHOLEPTOS by ROBERT BROWNING THE CHILDREN'S BOATS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON TO THE MOST SCARED QUEEN ANNE by THOMAS CAMPION SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 56 by BLISS CARMAN DOVECOTT MILL: 9. WOOING by PHOEBE CARY MOUNT KINGSTON by EDWIN M. CASE |