JUST the airiest, fairiest slip of a thing, With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly's wing, Tilted up at one side with the jauntiest air, And a knot of red roses sewn in under there Where the shadows are lost in her hair. Then a cameo face, carven in on a ground Of that shadowy hair where the roses are wound; And the gleam of a smile, O as fair and as faint And as sweet as the masters of old used to paint Round the lips of their favorite saint! And that lace at her throat -- and the fluttering hands Snowing there, with a grace that no art understands, The flakes of their touches -- first fluttering at The bow -- then the roses -- the hair -- and then that Little tilt of the Gainsborough hat. Ah, what artist on earth with a model like this, Holding not on his palette the tint of a kiss, Nor a pigment to hint of the hue of her hair Nor the gold of her smile -- O what artist could dare To expect a result half so fair? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LILAC: FIRST EMOTIONS OF LOVE by ROBERT BURNS EPIGRAM ON MY WEDDING DAY: TO PENELOPE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE VICAR by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED TWO POEMS TO HANS THOMA ON HIS SIXIETH BIRTHDAY: 2. THE KNIGHT by RAINER MARIA RILKE GOOD-NIGHT by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN |