Carved in the silence by the hand of Pain, <br />And made more perfect by the gift of Peace, <br />Than if Delight had bid your sorrow cease, <br />And brought the dawn to where the dark has lain, <br />And set a smile upon your lips again; <br />Oh strong and noble! Tho' your woes increase, <br />The gods shall hear no crying for release, <br />Nor see the tremble that your lips restrain. <br />Alone as all the chosen are alone, <br />Yet one with all the beauty of the past; <br />A sister to the noblest that we know, <br />The Venus carved in Melos long ago, <br />Yea, speak to her, and at your lightest tone, <br />Her lips will part and words will come at last.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-picture-of-eleonora-duse-in-2/
