Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/66

 An Image sits, stupendous, superhuman, The bronze colossus of a wingèd Woman, Upon a graded granite base foursquare.

Low-seated she leans forward massively, With cheek on clenched left hand, the forearm's might Erect, its elbow on her rounded knee; Across a clasped book in her lap the right Upholds a pair of compasses; she gazes With full set eyes, but wandering in thick mazes Of sombre thought beholds no outward sight.

Words cannot picture her; but all men know That solemn sketch the pure sad artist wrought Three centuries and threescore years ago, With phantasies of his peculiar thought: The instruments of carpentry and science Scattered about her feet, in strange alliance With the keen wolf -hound sleeping undistraught;

Scales, hour-glass, bell, and magic-square above; The grave and solid infant perched beside, With open winglets that might bear a dove, Intent upon its tablets, heavy-eyed;