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Poems (May)/Theodora

From Wikisource
Poems
by Edith May
Theodora
4509450Poems — TheodoraEdith May
THEODORA.
Since we know her for an angel Bearing meek the common load, Let us call her, Theodora,    Gift of God!
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Still so young that every summer Is a rose upon her brow,All her days are blooms detaching    From a bough.
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She is very slight, and graceful As the bending of a fern, As the marble figure drooping    O'er an urn.
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In her eyes are tranquil shadows Lofty thoughts alone can make, Like the darkness thrown by mountains    O'er a lake.
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If you speak, the slow returning Of her spirit from afar To their depths, is like the advent    Of a star.
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No one marvels at her beauty; Blended with a perfect whole,Beauty seems the just expression    Of her soul.
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For her lightest word or fancy, Unarrayed for human ear, Might be echoed by an angel    Watching near.
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Be a theme however homely. It is glorious at her will, Like a common air transfigured    By a master's skill.
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And her words, severely simple As a drapery Grecian-wrought, Show the clear symmetric outline    Of her thought.
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To disguise her limbs with grandeur Would seem strange as to dispose Gold and velvet round a statue's    Pale repose.
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But a robe of simplest texture Should be gathered to her throat, And her rippled locks part braided,    Part afloat.
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While a pendent spray of lilies In their folds should be arrayed,Or a waxen white camelia    Lamp their shade.