Your face is set against a fervent sky, <br />Before the thirsty hills that sevenfold <br />Return the sun's hot glory, gold on gold, <br />Where Agamemnon and Cassandra lie. <br />Your eyes are blind whose light shall never die, <br />And all the tears the closed eyelids hold, <br />And all the longing that the eyes have told, <br />Is gathered in the lips that make no cry. <br />Yea, like a flower within a desert place, <br />Whose petals fold and fade for lack of rain, <br />Are these, your eyes, where joy of sight was slain, <br />And in the silence of your lifted face, <br />The cloud is rent that hides a sleeping race, <br />And vanished Grecian beauty lives again.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-picture-of-eleonora-duse-in/
