MAKE thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair <br />Of knowing thee be absolute; I wait <br />Hour-long and waste a soul. What word of fate <br />Hides 'twixt the lips which smile and still forbear? <br />Secret perfection! Mystery too fair! <br />Tangle the sense no more lest I should hate <br />Thy delicate tyranny, the inviolate <br />Poise of thy folded hands, thy fallen hair. <br />Nay, nay,--I wrong thee with rough words; still be <br />Serene, victorious, inaccessible; <br />Still smile but speak not; lightest irony <br />Lurk ever 'neath thine eyelids' shadow; still <br />O'ertop our knowledge; Sphinx of Italy <br />Allure us and reject us at thy will!<br /><br />Edward Dowden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leonardo-s-monna-lisa/
