Chapter VII

Deep-curving lashes, long and soft and dark;
Deep gentle eyes that late were lit in heaven
With God’s most sacred, most immaculate spark,
To His elect among the children given;

Dark hair, where wistful hands laid on to bless
Might pause, blest rather, overshadowèd
By wings of angels and the blamelessness
That crowned the innocent brow, the gracious head;

A cheek, where tremulous colour came and went,
Transparent, sensitive, and smooth and fine;
Well-chiselled features, mutely eloquent
Of the great Master-workman’s touch divine—

These were the parts that made a perfect whole,
The faultless temple of a spotless soul.