Page:Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918).djvu/98

 The Book of a Monk's Life Many have painted her. But there was one

Who drew his radiant colours from the sun.

Mysteriously glowing through a background dim

When he was suffering she came to him,

And all the heavy pain within his heart

Rose in his hands and stole into his art.

His canvas is the beautiful bright veil

Through which her sorrow shines. There where the frail

Texture o'er her sad lips is closely drawn

A trembling smile softly begins to dawn

Though angels with seven candles light the place

You cannot read the secret of her face.

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