Edwin John Dove Pratt (Эдвин Джон Дав Пратт)

In Lantern Light

I could not paint, nor could I draw
    The look that searched the night;
The bleak refinement of the face I saw
    In lantern light.

A cunning hand might seize the crag,
    Or stay the flight of a gull,
Or the rocket's flash; or more—the lightning jag
    That lit the hull.

But as a man born blind must steal
    His colors from the night
By hand, I had to touch that face to feel
    It marble white.

1. Ode to December, 1917
2. The Toll of the Bells
3. Dawn!
4. In Absentia
5. Loss of the Steamship Florizel

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