Poems (Loveman)/Fra Angelico
For works with similar titles, see Fra Angelico.
FRA ANGELICO.
This is a babe Angelico painted, Red chubby cheeks and the daintiest nose,A flaxen poll that the years have sainted, Yet somehow, it glows,
You see the budding lips half pursed, It seems but yesteday they smiled,Acanthus-like i' the gold dispersed, Eyes bluely mild.
Where the sleeve's frail hem slips down and under, Ah, what a miracle of hands!Not the slightest swerve to mark a blunder, Superb it stands.
Did you hold it perchance to your heart encrusted, You, Angelico (Fra by grace),Till its spacious wisdom bloomed and dusted, Some barren place?
Or, did it creep unawares to your portal, Weed-overgrown and gray in part,Then with a bound purge clean immortal, Some ancient smart?
Ah, Angelico, life is deeper Than ours the poet's hand can plumb,Bent that a birthright wakes the sleeper, Why, we know not, dumb.
Only feel that in spite of the metals, Dross and the manifold slag that glows,Somewhere beneath it with perfect petals, Slumbers a rose.
Lippi would rim it in lucent letter, Sandro bejewelled with easy grace,But you, Angelico, saw it all better— A perfect face.