Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/140



not of thy history, thou sad Yet beautiful faced Girl:—the chestnut braid Bound darkly round thy forehead, the blue veins Wandering in azure light, the ivory chin Dimpled so archly, have no characters Graven by memory; but thy pale cheek, Like a white rose on which the sun hath looked Too wildly warm, (is not this passion's legend?) The drooping lid whose lash is bright with tears, A lip which has the sweetness of a smile But not its gaiety—do not these bear The scorched footprints sorrow leaves in passing