A Portrait
"One Name is Elizabeth."—Jonson.
I will paint her as I see her:
Ten times have the lilies blown,
Since she looked upon the sun.
And her face is lily-clear—
Lily-shaped, and drooped in duty
To the law of its own beauty.
Oval cheeks encolored faintly,
Which a trail of golden hair
Keeps from fading off to air:
And a forehead fair and saintly,
Which two blue eyes undershine,
Like meek prayers before a shrine.
Face and figure of a child,—
Though too calm, you think, and tender,
For the childhood you would lend her.
Yet child-simple, undefiled,
Frank, obedient,—waiting still
On the turnings of your will.
Moving light, as all young things—
As young birds, or early wheat
When the wind blows over it.
Only free from flutterings
Of loud mirth that scorneth measure—
Taking love for her chief pleasure: