Of Inaccessible Beauty
Ladies in elegant silks and lacesHave come at times to my insignificant shop,For pieces of jade, or banners, or curious cuttings of ivory.And I look with insufferable emotionUpon their roseleaf skin,And breathe the soft scents that flow from their garments,And long to soothe their lily-fingered hands.In their presenceI am seized with longings unutterable,And am filled with a sickness of my present unkind estate.
But then I rememberThat Beauty’s not always a star,Not always remote, not always in lofty places,Chrysanthemum-clad and lily-sheathed;But often lies in the hedgesAnd peeps from street-cornersAnd lurks shyly behind broken doorways.
And I think upon the kind and considerate beautyOf the maid with the golden curls,And her patched, uncoloured robes of common cloth.And with a change of mood I charge the elegant ladiesThree times the value of the articles chosen,And thus tear from their flowery bodiesPieces of their billowing silkTo deck the less fervid beauty of my friend.