LADY, in thy proud eyes <br />There is a weary look, <br />As if the spirit we know through them <br />Were daunted with rebuke <br />To think that the heart of man henceforth <br />Is read like a read book. <br />Lady, in thy lifted face <br />The solitude is sore; <br />The true solitude follows the crowd. <br />Will it be less or more <br />When the words have been spoken to thee <br />Which my heart is seeking for? <br />Lady, canst thou not guess <br />The words which my thoughts seek? <br />Perhaps thou deem'st them well to spurn <br />And better not to speak. <br />Oh thou must know my love is strong, <br />Hearing my voice so weak. <br />Lady, ah go not thus: <br />Lady, give ear again: <br />Lady, oh learn from me that yet <br />There may one thing remain <br />Which stands not in the knowledge thou hast <br />And in thy lore of men. <br />Lady, the darkness lasteth long <br />Ere the dawn touch the skies; <br />Many are the leagues of wilderness <br />Till ye come where the green lies; <br />Nay often betwixt doubt and doubt <br />Death whispers and makes wise. <br />Lady, has not my thought <br />Dared much? For I would be <br />The ending of darkness and the dawn <br />Of a new day to thee, <br />And thine oasis, and thy place of rest, <br />And thy time of peace, lady.<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-prayer-71/
