Mathilde Blind

Beauty

Even as on some black background full of night
   And hollow storm in cloudy disarray,
   The forceful brush of some great master may
More brilliantly evoke a higher light;
So beautiful, so delicately white,
   So like a very metaphor of May,
   Your loveliness on my life's sombre grey
In its perfection stands out doubly bright.

And yet your beauty breeds a strange despair,
   And pang of yearning in the helpless heart;
To shield you from time's fraying wear and tear,
   That from yourself yourself would wrench apart,
How save you, fairest, but to set you where
   Mortality kills death in deathless art?