Beautiful am I as a dream in stone;
And for my breast, where each falls bruised in turn,
The poet with an endless love must yearn--
Endless as Matter, silent and alone.
A sphinx unguessed, enthroned in azure skies,
White as the swan, my heart is cold as snow;
No hated motion breaks my lines' pure flow,
Nor tears nor laughter ever dim mine eyes.
Poets, before the attitudes sublime
I seem to steal from proudest monuments,
In austere studies waste the ling'ring time;
For I possess, to charm my lover's sight,
Mirrors wherein all things are fair and bright--
My eyes, my large eyes of eternal light!
Translation of Miss Katharine Hillard.