My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
VI.
But now the Maid was changed, for she had been
With Sorrow in its chilly sanctuary;
Her look was paler, for it had been touched
With that white stillness of the winding-sheet,
That smile forlornly sweet upon the face
When left forever widowed of the soul.
Henceforth her life went softly all its days
As if she felt the Grave-turf underfoot.
Her beauty was more spiritual; not aged
Or worn; less colour, but more light.
It was a brier-rose beauty, tremulous
With tenderest dew-drop purity of soul.
With Sorrow in its chilly sanctuary;
Her look was paler, for it had been touched
With that white stillness of the winding-sheet,
That smile forlornly sweet upon the face
When left forever widowed of the soul.
Henceforth her life went softly all its days
As if she felt the Grave-turf underfoot.
209
Or worn; less colour, but more light.
It was a brier-rose beauty, tremulous
With tenderest dew-drop purity of soul.
I've often seen how well their favour wears
Whose sufferings are for others, not for Self;
How long they keep a fair unfurrowed face,
Whose tears are luminous with healing love,—
The pearly cars that bring good spirits down
To water and enrich their special flowers,—
And do not come from cares that kill the heart;
These sere no bloom; they leave no snaky trail.
So Martha kept her face, and might have been
The younger sister of that lily Maid,
The lovable Elaine of Astolat.
Whose sufferings are for others, not for Self;
How long they keep a fair unfurrowed face,
Whose tears are luminous with healing love,—
The pearly cars that bring good spirits down
To water and enrich their special flowers,—
And do not come from cares that kill the heart;
These sere no bloom; they leave no snaky trail.
So Martha kept her face, and might have been
The younger sister of that lily Maid,
The lovable Elaine of Astolat.
| My Lyrical Life | |