Poem by Dollie Radford

A Model

YEAR after year I sit for them, 
 The boys and girls who come and go, 
Although my beauty’s diadem 
 Has lain for many seasons low. 

When first I came my hair was bright,— 
 How hard, they said, to paint its gold, 
How difficult to catch the light 
 Which fell upon it, fold on fold,— 

How hard to give my happy youth 
 In all its pride of white and red; 
None would believe, in very truth, 
 A maiden was so fair, they said. 

How could they know they gave to me 
 The daily hope which made me fair,
Sweet promises of things to be, 
 The happy things I was to share.

The flowers painted round my face, 
 The magic seas and skies above, 
And many a fair enchanted place 
 Full of the summer time and love. 

They set me in a fairy-land,
 So much more real than they knew,
And I was slow to understand 
 The pictures could not all come true.

But one by one, they died somehow, 
 The waking dreams which kept me glad,
And as I sat, they told me now, 
 None would believe a maid so sad. 
 
They paint me still, but now I sit 
 Just for my neck and shoulder lines, 
And for the little lingering bit 
 Of color in my hair that shines. 
 
And as a figure worn and strange 
 Into their groups I sometimes stray, 
To break the light, to mark their range 
 Of sun and shade, of grave and gay.
 
And evermore they come and go,
 With life and hope so sweet and high,— 
In all the world how should they know 
 There is no one so tired as I.

1. The Clavichord
2. The Song Unsung
3. For Windows by L. D.
4. Outside the Hedge of Roses
5. Because Your Treasure Is Near

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