A PORTRAIT OF MY LADY
PRELUDE
O words! weak words, how can I give thee form
And color like the fair young face I fain
Would paint? How can I give thee light and shade,
And strength and truth and gentle earnestness,
And crown them all with that rich coronet
Of human life, a great and noble soul?
And color like the fair young face I fain
Would paint? How can I give thee light and shade,
And strength and truth and gentle earnestness,
And crown them all with that rich coronet
Of human life, a great and noble soul?
O eyes! deep lucent pools of tenderness
And truth, where all that fair or good in earth
Or heaven mirrored lies, where burns the fire
Of proud ambition towards the infinite,
And soul that will not rest content with small
Uncertain things, but needs must climb from height
To height, undazzled by the altitude,
That cannot rest until it knoweth God,
The source, and author of the universe,
The fountain of all beauty and all truth,
And knowing Him—must love the mystery
Of earth, of air, of sun, of sky, and all
That moves and lives in this great universe.
O eyes, so strong, so deep, so grave, so full
Of that unspoken language of the soul;
Mine own poor orbs go down before thy gaze
As 'twere an angel sent to me from heaven
And truth, where all that fair or good in earth
Or heaven mirrored lies, where burns the fire
Of proud ambition towards the infinite,
And soul that will not rest content with small
Uncertain things, but needs must climb from height
To height, undazzled by the altitude,
That cannot rest until it knoweth God,
The source, and author of the universe,
The fountain of all beauty and all truth,
And knowing Him—must love the mystery
Of earth, of air, of sun, of sky, and all
That moves and lives in this great universe.
O eyes, so strong, so deep, so grave, so full
Of that unspoken language of the soul;
Mine own poor orbs go down before thy gaze
As 'twere an angel sent to me from heaven
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