A public haunt they found her in:
She lay asleep, a lovely child;
The only thing left undefiled
Where all things else bore taint of sin.
Her supple outlines fixed in clay
The universal law suspend,
And turn Time's chariot back, and blend
A thousand years with yesterday.
A sinless touch, austere yet warm,
Around her girlish figures pressed,
Caught the sweet imprint of her breast,
And held her, surely clasped, from harm.
Truer than a sculptor's art
Comes this dear maid of long ago,
Sheltered with woeful chance, to show
A spirit's lovely counterpart,
And bid mistrustful men be sure
That form shall fate of flesh escape,
And, quit of earth's corruptions, shape
Itself, imperishably pure.
danny
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