Ballads (Masefield, 1903)/The Gentle Lady

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The Gentle Lady

So beautiful, so dainty-sweetSo like a lyre's delightful touch—A beauty perfect, ripe, completeThat art's own hand could only smutchAnd nature's self not better much.
So beautiful, so purely wrought,Like a fair missal penned with hymns,So gentle, so surpassing thought—A beauteous soul in lovely limbs,A lantern that an angel trims.
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So simple-sweet, without a sinLike gentle music gently timed,Like rhyme-words coming aptly in,To round a moonéd poem rhymedTo tunes the laughing bells have chimed.

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