The Statue-

As perfect in their symmetry as thine, O inarticulate marble lips, were those My love once raised to mine, yet tinged with rose And freighted with a redolence divine. Her poise of head was queenly; fair and fine Her alabaster arms that shamed the snows; Her gracious bearing had thy pure repose, And stately was she as the forest pine. Knowledge sat throned upon her regal brow, Round which her tresses rippled, bright as gold; Sweet as a songbird's on a budding bough The liquid voice that from her lips outrolled; But lo! there came an awful change, and now Thou, in thine icy hush, art not more cold!