Genius In Beauty

Beauty like hers is genius. Not the call Of Homer's or of Dante's heart sublime,-- Not Michael's hand furrowing the zones of time,-- Is more with compassed mysteries musical; Nay, not in Spring's or Summer's sweet footfall More gathered gifts exuberant Life bequeathes* Than doth this sovereign face, whose love-spell breathes Even from its shadowed contour on the wall.

As many men are poets in their youth, But for one sweet-strung soul the wires prolong Even through all change the indomitable song; So in likewise the envenomed years, whose tooth Rends shallower grace with ruin void of ruth, Upon this beauty's power shall wreak no wrong.

*[sic]