Hate in the world's hand <br />Can carve and set its seal <br />Like the strong blast of sand <br />Which cuts into steel. <br /> <br />I have seen how the finger of hate <br />Can mar and mould <br />Faces burned passionate <br />And frozen cold. <br /> <br />Sorrowful faces worn <br />As stone with rain, <br />Faces writhing with scorn <br />And sullen with pain. <br /> <br />But you have a proud face <br />Which the world cannot harm, <br />You have turned the pain to a grace <br />And the scorn to a charm. <br /> <br />You have taken the arrows and slings <br />Which prick and bruise <br />And fashioned them into wings <br />For the heels of your shoes. <br /> <br />From the world's hand which tries <br />To tear you apart <br />You have stolen the falcon's eyes <br />And the lion's heart. <br /> <br />What has it done, this world, <br />With hard finger-tips, <br />But sweetly chiseled and curled <br />Your inscrutable lips?<br /><br />Elinor Morton Wylie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-proud-lady/
