Page:Some soldier poets.djvu/109

Rh marbles of Carrara. I am grieved for our hands that were so reverent in beauty's service, so glad of beauty's tresses, hair and silken robe and gentle fingers, so glad of beauty of bronze and wood and stone and rustling parchment. So glad, so reverent, so white. . ..

"I am grieved for our hands. . . ."

She holds the torch near to look and its light floods her face, while he smiles, for she reveals her own unconscious beauty in the act of pitying his hands, blunted, stiffened and begrimed by his foul task. Rh