His own fair countenance, his kingly forehead His tender smiles, Love's day-dawn on his Lips That put on such heavenly spiritual light At the same moment in his steadfast eyes/ Were virtue's native crest, the innocent Soul's Unconscious meek Self-heraldry -- to man Genial, and pleasant to his guardian angel -- He suffered, nor complain'd; tho' oft, with tears, He mourn'd the oppression of his helpless Brethren, -- And sometimes with a deeper, holier grief Mourn'd for the oppressor: but that in Sabbath Hours -- a solemn grief, That like a Cloud at sunset, Was but the veil of inward meditation, Pierc'd thro' And saturate with the intellectual rays, it soften'd. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR 'THE WINE OF CIRCE' (BY EDWARD BURNE JONES) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LITTLE BOATIE'; A SLUMBER SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD by HENRY VAN DYKE A SONG OF PROGRESS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE CALIPH'S DRAUGHT by EDWIN ARNOLD BRITANNIA TO COLUMBIA by ALFRED AUSTIN THE CASTLE RUINS by WILLIAM BARNES |