 | The Garden of Florence; and Other Poems |  |
130
SONNET
ON THE PICTURE OF A LADY.
Sorrow hath made thine eyes more dark and keen,
And set a whiter hue upon thy cheeks,—
And round thy pressed lips drawn anguish streaks,
And made thy forehead fearfully serene.
Even in thy steady hair her work is seen,
For its still parted darkness—till it breaks
In heavy curls upon thy shoulders—speaks
Like the stern wave,—how hard the storm hath been!
And set a whiter hue upon thy cheeks,—
And round thy pressed lips drawn anguish streaks,
And made thy forehead fearfully serene.
Even in thy steady hair her work is seen,
For its still parted darkness—till it breaks
In heavy curls upon thy shoulders—speaks
Like the stern wave,—how hard the storm hath been!
So look'd that hapless lady of the South,
Sweet Isabella! at that dreary part
Of all the passion'd hours of her youth;
When her green basil pot by brothers' art
Was stolen away:—so look'd her pained mouth
In the mute patience of a breaking heart!
Sweet Isabella! at that dreary part
131
When her green basil pot by brothers' art
Was stolen away:—so look'd her pained mouth
In the mute patience of a breaking heart!
| The Garden of Florence; and Other Poems | |