If on the closed curtain of my sight <br />My fancy paints thy portrait far away, <br />I see thee still the same, by night or day; <br />Crossing the crowded street, or moving bright <br />'Mid festal throngs, or reading by the light <br />Of shaded lamp some friendly poet's lay, <br />Or shepherding the children at their play,-- <br />The same sweet self, and my unchanged delight. <br /> <br />But when I see thee near, I recognize <br />In every dear familiar way some strange <br />Perfection, and behold in April guise <br />The magic of thy beauty that doth range <br />Through many moods with infinite surprise,-- <br />Never the same, and sweeter with each change.<br /><br />Henry Van Dyke<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/portrait-and-reality/
