IN youth he wrought, with eyes ablur, Lorn-faced and long of hair -- In youth -- in youth he painted her A sister of the air -- Could clasp her not, but felt the stir Of pinions everywhere. She lured his gaze, in braver days, And tranced him siren-wise; And he did paint her, through a haze Of sullen paradise, With scars of kisses on her face And embers in her eyes. And now -- nor dream nor wild conceit -- Though faltering, as before -- Through tears he paints her, as is meet, Tracing the dear face o'er With lilied patience meek and sweet As Mother Mary wore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORDS INTO WORDS WON'T GO by CLARENCE MAJOR FRAGMENT ON DEATH by FRANCOIS VILLON HOMAGE TO THE BRITISH MUSEUM by WILLIAM EMPSON ELEGY FOR A DEAD KING by AL-KUTANDI SHREWSBURY NIGHT by CHARLES WARE BORDEN IN THE FOURTH WATCH by MYRON HENRY BROOMWELL THE RUBY THROAT by RUTH BUTLER BROWN |