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In the Athenæum Gallery
IT may be so,—perhaps thou hast | |
| A warm and loving heart; | |
| I will not blame thee for thy face, | |
| Poor devil as thou art. | |
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| That thing, thou fondly deem’st a nose, | 5 |
| Unsightly though it be,— | |
| In spite of all the cold world’s scorn, | |
| It may be much to thee. | |
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| Those eyes,—among thine elder friends | |
| Perhaps they pass for blue;— | 10 |
| No matter,—if a man can see, | |
| What more have eyes to do? | |
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| Thy mouth,—that fissure in thy face | |
| By something like a chin,— | |
| May be a very useful place | 15 |
| To put thy victual in. | |
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| I know thou hast a wife at home, | |
| I know thou hast a child, | |
| By that subdued, domestic smile | |
| Upon thy features mild. | 20 |
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| That wife sits fearless by thy side, | |
| That cherub on thy knee; | |
| They do not shudder at thy looks, | |
| They do not shrink from thee. | |
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| Above thy mantel is a hook,— | 25 |
| A portrait once was there; | |
| It was thine only ornament,— | |
| Alas! that hook is bare. | |
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| She begged thee not to let it go, | |
| She begged thee all in vain; | 30 |
| She wept,—and breathed a trembling prayer | |
| To meet it safe again. | |
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| It was a bitter sight to see | |
| That picture torn away; | |
| It was a solemn thought to think | 35 |
| What all her friends would say! | |
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| And often in her calmer hours, | |
| And in her happy dreams, | |
| Upon its long-deserted hook | |
| The absent portrait seems. | 40 |
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| Thy wretched infant turns his head | |
| In melancholy wise, | |
| And looks to meet the placid stare | |
| Of those unbending eyes. | |
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| I never saw thee, lovely one,— | 45 |
| Perhaps I never may; | |
| It is not often that we cross | |
| Such people in our way; | |
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| But if we meet in distant years, | |
| Or on some foreign shore, | 50 |
| Sure I can take my Bible oath, | |
| I’ve seen that face before. | |
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