(_Prologue to 'The Two Poets of Croisic.'_) <br /> <br />Such a starved bank of moss <br />Till, that May-morn, <br />Blue ran the flash across: <br />Violets were born! <br /> <br />Sky--what a scowl of cloud <br />Till, near and far, <br />Ray on ray split the shroud: <br />Splendid, a star! <br /> <br />World--how it walled about <br />Life with disgrace, <br />Till God's own smile came out: <br />That was thy face!<br /><br />Robert Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apparitions/
