To What Serves Mortal Beauty?

To what serves mortal beauty '—dangerous; does set danc-

ing blood—the O-seal-that-so ' feature, flung prouder form

Than Purcell tune lets tread to? ' See: it does this: keeps warm

Men's wits to the things that are; ' what good means—where a glance

Master more may than gaze, ' gaze out of countenance.

Those lovely lads once, wet-fresh ' windfalls of war's storm,

How then should Gregory, a father, ' have gleanèd else from swarm-

ed Rome? But God to a nation ' dealt that day's dear chance.

To man, that needs would worship ' block or barren stone,

Our law says: Love what are ' love's worthiest, were all known;

World's loveliest—men's selves. Self ' flashes off frame and face.

What do then? how meet beauty? ' Merely meet it; own,

Home at heart, heaven's sweet gift; ' then leave, let that alone.

Yea, wish that though, wish all, ' God's better beauty, grace.