Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
By Charles deGuire Christoph
From “Reflections”

THE CLEAR line of her profile reminded me of an ancient relief
I saw at the Louvre—some Ceasar’s wife
Tranquil and wise, gazing unregretfully
Across the hysteric ages into old Rome.
Long, long ago, I thought, some great senator        5
Lay at her feet, and watched the evening light
Stamp her face on the smooth wall; and wondered
At her beauty—and how the shadows of her lashes
Made fine laces on her cheeks, and how her eyes
Caught the sun and burned deeply and evenly.        10
And he smiled at the amorous curve of her chin and wished
To touch her lips—wine and silk and poesy.
That was, perhaps, in Rome; but I know now
My lady has a leper’s heart; her lips
Are torture, and her eyes reflect such shame        15
There is no help; and on her cheek there clings
The sad voluptuousness of drunken Time,
Dancing like a cretin in an aimless whirl.
I find no harmony; I had no right to try
To gain such end while all the wise ones sneer.        20
When years have tired, and turn their meagre faces
Again to the old, there may again be peace
For poets singing; there may again be love.

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