ALMOST afraid they led her in (A dwarf more piteous none could find): Withered as some weird leaf, and thin, The woman was -- and wan and blind. Into his mirror with a smile -- Not vain to be so fair, but glad -- The South-born painter looked the while, With eyes than Christ's alone less sad. "Mother of God," in pale surprise He whispered, "what am I to paint!" A voice, that sounded from the skies, Said to him, "Raphael, a saint." She sat before him in the sun: He scarce could look at her, and she Was still and silent.... "It is done," He said. -- "Oh, call the world to see!" Ah, this was she in veriest truth -- Transcendent face and haloed hair. The beauty of divinest youth, Divinely beautiful, was there. Herself into her picture passed -- Herself and not her poor disguise, Made up of time and dust.... At last One saw her with the Master's eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW TO KNOW LOVE FROM DECEIT by WILLIAM BLAKE BAVARIAN GENTIANS by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE EDWIN MORRIS; OR, THE LAKE by ALFRED TENNYSON FAST ANCHOR'D ETERNAL O LOVE! by WALT WHITMAN ANDROMEDA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 13. AL-BARI by EDWIN ARNOLD |