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73

XXXVIII. O FACE!

Lift me by thy strange beauty evermore
And gift me nobly as with God's own grace
And give me holiest wings whereon to soar,
O face!
There never yet on loveliest hill or shore,
In old-world lands, or fair undreamed-of place,
Shone beauty such as thine for man to adore,
O face!
Love-gifts round Helen all men came to pour;
The strong world maddened for her white embrace:
Beauty past speech she had; yet thou hast more,
O face!

74

I never dreamed till half my life was o'er
That beauty such as thine God's hand could trace.
Nor was such beauty moulded ever of yore,
O face!
Lift me to lands where Beauty evermore
Is one with Love, and Love is one with grace.
Let me with all my strength of soul adore,
O face!