 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
300
SARGENT'S PORTRAIT OF EDWIN BOOTH AT “THE PLAYERS”
1891
That face which no man ever sawAnd from his memory banished quite,
With eyes in which are Hamlet's awe
And Cardinal Richelieu's subtle light
Looks from this frame. A master's hand
Has set the master-player here,
In the fair temple that he planned
Not for himself. To us most dear
This image of him! “It was thus
He looked; such pallor touched his cheek;
With that same grace he greeted us—
Nay, 't is the man, could it but speak!”
Sad words that shall be said some day—
Far fall the day! O cruel Time,
Whose breath sweeps mortal things away,
Spare long this image of his prime,
That others standing in the place
Where, save as ghosts, we come no more,
May know what sweet majestic face
The gentle Prince of Players wore!
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |