Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
THE PORTRAIT. TO ------. |
Stones from The Quarry | ||
167
THE PORTRAIT. TO ------.
Soft from the canvas rose that peerless face,And seemed less painted, than to grow, expand,
To shaping music, or enchanter's wand,
Rosebud to rose, crescive in some sweet place,
Addition taking (as we gaze) of grace!
Hope took the pencil from the painter's hand,
And parted those sweet lips with his most bland
And sunny smiles, as sunbeams sunbeams chase!
Then Charity touched in her looks with soft
And tender pity, gentle as a dove;
Faith raised them, as in ecstasy, aloft.
But, lest the Woman pass to Angel, Love,
All arts essaying, and re-touching oft,
Hid himself in her eyes, nor would remove!
Stones from The Quarry | ||