Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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ON A PORTRAIT OF I. F., PAINTED BY MARGARET GILLIES

          WE gaze--nor grieve to think that we must die,
          But that the precious love this friend hath sown
          Within our hearts, the love whose flower hath blown
          Bright as if heaven were ever in its eye,
          Will pass so soon from human memory;
          And not by strangers to our blood alone,
          But by our best descendants be unknown,
          Unthought of--this may surely claim a sigh.
          Yet, blessed Art, we yield not to dejection;
          Thou against Time so feelingly dost strive.                 10
          Where'er, preserved in this most true reflection,
          An image of her soul is kept alive,
          Some lingering fragrance of the pure affection,
          Whose flower with us will vanish, must survive.

                                            RYDAL MOUNT,
                                              New Year's Day, 1840.


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