 | Wild honey from various thyme |  |
178
HER PROFILE
Nought from the changing seasons can we win:I have desired that men should learn her spell
As it abides, profound, perpetual,
In contour from the forehead to the chin:
But there is such a tremor in the line,
Such quick beneath the chiselling—what art
The shore of her breath's egress can define?
What lips in all the world part as hers part?
Lo, of a chance, one night, she in her chair
A little from the hearth, a radiance swims
From candles lit beyond that face of hers,
So holden of a dream it never stirs,
While all its tender marge in shadow rims,
Even as a dusky pearl caresses air.
| Wild honey from various thyme | |