 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
66
XVIII. TOTA PULCHRA.
A broken gleam on wave and flower,
A music that in utterance dies,
A redd'ning leaf, a falling shower,
Behold that Beauty which we prize!
A music that in utterance dies,
A redd'ning leaf, a falling shower,
Behold that Beauty which we prize!
And ah! how oft Corruption works
Through that brief Beauty's force or wile!
How oft a gloom eternal lurks
Beneath an evanescent smile!
Through that brief Beauty's force or wile!
How oft a gloom eternal lurks
Beneath an evanescent smile!
But thou, serene and smiling light
Of every grace to man benign,
In thee all harmonies unite;
All minstrelsies of Truth are thine.
Of every grace to man benign,
In thee all harmonies unite;
All minstrelsies of Truth are thine.
Of old whate'er to mind or heart
Was dear ‘had leave’ with thee to rest:
The ‘little birds’ of every Art
Hung on thy Fane their procreant nest.
Was dear ‘had leave’ with thee to rest:
The ‘little birds’ of every Art
Hung on thy Fane their procreant nest.
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |