LOVELY she was, if so be Night That slumbers in the sombre shrine, There laid by sculptor Michael's might Unmoving in her marble line. And she was kind, if it suffice To succour with unheeding face, And give unseen of God's wide eyes; If heartless gold have any grace. She pondered, if the idle stir And gentle lilt of phrases low, As plaintive as a brook, aver That the shy brook doth ponder so. She prayed, if two so lovely eyes From downward gaze and upward glance In flight from earth toward the skies, May earn the name of pray'r perchance. She might have smiled, if flowers shy That yet within the bud are sealed, Might open when the wind goes by And leaves their longing all unhealed. She might have wept, if her white hand That coldly o'er her heart is set Had ever human body spanned With dews of heavenly odour wet. She might have loved, had pride allowed That ever kept its vigil vain, And like a lamp set by a shroud, Shone in her barren heart's domain. The hue of seeming life she wore; And she has died by life unstirred. The book is fallen to the floor Whereof she never spelt a word. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EXPATIATION ON THE COMBINING OF WEATHERS AT THIRTY .... by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE BIRTH OF VENUS by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEY HAVEN'T HEARD THE WEST IS OVER by JAMES GALVIN AFTER VERLAINE by ANSELM HOLLO AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW SUPREME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER |