 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
53
MY PICTURE.
Once a sculptor, in a fabric solemn,
Wrought bright cherub figures here and there,
Covered each fair cornice and white column
With his mighty art, flashed everywhere—
Waving wings or outstretched arms, and scattered
Flowers and fruits and leaves, in lovely strife
Which should fairest be, and even flattered
Dumb dead marble into breathing life;
But he carved, away from eye of scorner,
With that genius which could quicken stone,
One sweet angel face, in secret corner,
For his eye alone.
Wrought bright cherub figures here and there,
Covered each fair cornice and white column
With his mighty art, flashed everywhere—
Waving wings or outstretched arms, and scattered
Flowers and fruits and leaves, in lovely strife
Which should fairest be, and even flattered
Dumb dead marble into breathing life;
But he carved, away from eye of scorner,
With that genius which could quicken stone,
One sweet angel face, in secret corner,
For his eye alone.
Long at this he toiled, on this he lavished
All the wealth of all his heavenly art,
Beauty that the earth and sky had ravished,
Pouring into it his very heart;
Yet aside from the parade and riches,
Spent upon the calm cathedral space,
Soft serene Madonnas, saints in niches,
Claspt beseeching hands and open grace;
In that quiet nook, unseen its story,
Far apart, as on a starry throne,
Thus he set that one sweet angel glory,
For his eye alone.
All the wealth of all his heavenly art,
Beauty that the earth and sky had ravished,
Pouring into it his very heart;
Yet aside from the parade and riches,
Spent upon the calm cathedral space,
Soft serene Madonnas, saints in niches,
Claspt beseeching hands and open grace;
In that quiet nook, unseen its story,
Far apart, as on a starry throne,
Thus he set that one sweet angel glory,
For his eye alone.
So I have a sacred separate treasure,
Still unknown to men who know not love,
One outside the range of mortal measure,
And the reach of common rules above;
Just a portrait, painted not for others,
Who at lesser works may carp and stare,
None of such are hidden from my brothers,
But in this they may not ever share;
Here it is, exposed to no cheap stricture,
Done in dainty lines and tender tone,
One sweet bright and more than angel picture,
For my eye alone.
Still unknown to men who know not love,
One outside the range of mortal measure,
And the reach of common rules above;
Just a portrait, painted not for others,
Who at lesser works may carp and stare,
None of such are hidden from my brothers,
But in this they may not ever share;
Here it is, exposed to no cheap stricture,
Done in dainty lines and tender tone,
One sweet bright and more than angel picture,
For my eye alone.
Ah, the rapture of those eyes adoring,
Upward turned as to their native stars,
Holding commune with their God, imploring
Blest deliverance from our earthly bars;
Delicate ripe lips, so pure and parted
Red, some royal ministry to ask,
Moved as though the message just had started
Forth, upon its great and glorious task;
Queenly maiden, with the face averted
Shyly, as if Heaven upon it shone,
Yet it had not human ties deserted—
For my eye alone.
Upward turned as to their native stars,
Holding commune with their God, imploring
Blest deliverance from our earthly bars;
Delicate ripe lips, so pure and parted
Red, some royal ministry to ask,
Moved as though the message just had started
Forth, upon its great and glorious task;
Queenly maiden, with the face averted
Shyly, as if Heaven upon it shone,
Yet it had not human ties deserted—
For my eye alone.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |