Classic Poem

(Kama Kura.)

He sits. Upon the kingly head doth rest
The round-balled wimple, and the heavy rings
Touch on the shoulders where the shadow clings.
The downward garment shows the ambiguous breast;
The Face — that Face one scarce can look on, lest
One learn the secret of unspeakable things;
But the dread gaze descends with shudderings,
To the veiled couched knees, the hands and thumbs close pressed.
O lidded, downcast Eyes that bear the weight
Of all our woes and terrible wrong's increase:
Proud Nostrils, Lips proud-perfecter than these,
With what a soul within you do you wait!
Disdain and pity, love late-born of hate,
Passion eternal, patience, pride and peace!