Poems (E. L. F.)/The widow's son

​
THE WIDOW'S SON. OF THE CARRACCI.
Aghast I stood—for death lay pictured there,Just breathing into life—that fearful airOf mute bewilderment, that seemed to speakThe trembling terrors of that death-like cheek.The widow—who shall tell that bosom's joy,As sense by sense gave back her treasured boy;Or paint in words that fervour of the soul,Breathing a heavenly radiance o'er the whole.The tell-tale trace of agony once there,Just melting into mute devotedness of air;And thankfulness, and wonder, strove for place,In that impassioned countenance of grace.
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.