Classic Poem

Could I portray thy face, illuminate
With the high glory that it had for me,
Or deathless carve, in marble's sainted state,
The record of thy vanished majesty;

Or could I, like the grief-inspired of old,
Drean out some Minster of divinest form,
Arch within arch, to cherish and enfold
Love's passing holiness from waste or worm;

Or coud I rear towards heav'n a life of good,
Whose date were from our meeting, faultless, strong,
With every thought sublimed and prayer-endued,
The animals of my days should praise thee long.

But gifts like these I have not, to embalm,
Enshrine englorify thy memory;
Only, from stammering lips, the fitful psalm
Whose music wavers, when it speaks of thee.

Yet take my offering — Nature's simple skill
Shall stead for thee the perfect form of Art,
And my love's record, like to Mary's, dwell
Rich in the shattered vase and lavish heart.