IF Michelangelo could take my thought And mold it, as cold stone, to living form! I work in brittle words. He could have wrought A quiet girl; a whirling god of storm. A piece of marble, white as flesh is white, Can shape a noble forehead or a breast. A softened surface placed in shade and light Might take me from myself and give me rest. If Michelangelo could nervously Work my mad thought, there would rise up a god With stormy eyes, with whirling hair and shod In flame, reaching to give his potency To frosty stars. I work in words but stone Can leave me holy, passionate, alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BIRTHDAY POEM FOR THOMAS HARDY by CECIL DAY LEWIS ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST SEPARATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON LITTLE BROTHER'S STORY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |