27.12.2010, 17:23
LUCY.
The sculptor carves the stone, till he beholds
Its lessening bulk his finer thought fulfil ;
The flesh and blood our heavenly Artist moulds,
Wax'd fuller, while He wrought it fairer still,
As Lucy grew to woman. Not a girl
In all the village wore her gracious look :
But each her dear pre-eminence could brook,
Nor wish'd a duller gloss on the least curl
Of her bright auburn hair. Love came to woo
In humblest guise, yet no coquettish guile
Depraved the honest beauty of her smile ;
Her goodness raised and better'd those who drew
The lot of the rejected, for they knew
Her utter truth and sweetness all the while
The sculptor carves the stone, till he beholds
Its lessening bulk his finer thought fulfil ;
The flesh and blood our heavenly Artist moulds,
Wax'd fuller, while He wrought it fairer still,
As Lucy grew to woman. Not a girl
In all the village wore her gracious look :
But each her dear pre-eminence could brook,
Nor wish'd a duller gloss on the least curl
Of her bright auburn hair. Love came to woo
In humblest guise, yet no coquettish guile
Depraved the honest beauty of her smile ;
Her goodness raised and better'd those who drew
The lot of the rejected, for they knew
Her utter truth and sweetness all the while