Poems (Bibesco)/VII

by Elizabeth Bibesco

VII

When I was young my beauty was unfurled,
A fluttering banner waving to the world,
Its brightness stolen by each errant eye
In brief indifference of larceny.

Were my eyes bright? Their brightness was not mine.
Bravely they shone as they were taught to shine,
Scattering sparks without a thought or care
That hearts may perish—can the fair be fair?

My smiling lips, did they belong to me?
When all the world stood on tiptoe to see
What they could capture, and if beauty can
Blossom imprisoned in the eyes of man.

My face was stolen every night and day,
Some snatched it roughly, and some slunk away
Taking a treasure they could not redeem,
Locking my image in a secret dream—

Yet did I not, through all those golden days
Spangled with hopes dissolving into rays,
Silently weeping, crying out alone,
Beseech my loveliness to be my own,

For, my beloved, has it not ever been
My unsought beauty that has come between
Us—though I've prayed for a disfiguring stain
To blot my face, and give it back again.

For then, my dearest, as I proudly knew,
Unlovely, wrinkled, I'd belong to you;
There is no watcher for an unlit scene,
Though love be there, where loveliness has been.

Only, dear heart, you would not wait, but went
Before my alien loveliness was spent;
When you had left my beauty died away,
Slowly retreating before night and day.

Sitting without you, old and dim and plain,
Vainly I crave my beauty back again,
Looking about me silent and alone;
Only my ruins still are called my own.

When you are young, your beauty goes to others;
When you are old, your face comes back again.
Lovely, unloving, the world is full of lovers;
Age teaches love, but teaches love in vain,