Beguiled into forgetfulness of care Due to the day’s unfinished task; of pen Or book regardless, and of that fair scene In Nature’s prodigality displayed Before my window, oftentimes and long 5 I gaze upon a Portrait whose mild gleam Of beauty never ceases to enrich The common light; whose stillness charms the air, Or seems to charm it, into like repose; Whose silence, for the pleasure of the ear, 10 Surpasses sweetest music. There she sits With emblematic purity attired In a white vest, white as her marble neck Is, and the pillar of the throat would be But for the shadow by the drooping chin 15 Cast into that recess--the tender shade, The shade and light, both there and every where, And through the very atmosphere she breathes, Broad, clear, and toned harmoniously, with skill That might from nature have been learnt in the hour 20 When the lone shepherd sees the morning spread Upon the mountains. Look at her, whoe’er Thou be that, kindling with a poet’s soul, Hast loved the painter’s true Promethean craft Intensely--from Imagination take 25 The treasure,--what mine eyes behold see thou, Even though the Atlantic ocean roll between. A silver line, that runs from brow to crown And in the middle parts the braided hair, Just serves to show how delicate a soil 30 The golden harvest grows in; and those eyes, Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky Whose azure depth their colour emulates, Must needs be conversant with upward looks, Prayer’s voiceless service; but now, seeking nought 35 And shunning nought, their own peculiar life Of motion they renounce, and with the head Partake its inclination towards earth In humble grace, and quiet pensiveness Caught at the point where it stops short of sadness. 40 Offspring of soul-bewitching Art, make me Thy confidant! say, whence derived that air Of calm abstraction? Can the ruling thought Be with some lover far away, or one Crossed by misfortune, or of doubted faith? 45 Inapt conjecture! Childhood here, a moon Crescent in simple loveliness serene, Has but approached the gates of womanhood, Not entered them; her heart is yet unpierced By the blind Archer-god; her fancy free: 50 The fount of feeling, if unsought elsewhere, Will not be found.