When my eyes are closed
Faces fragile, pale, yet flushed a little, like petals of roses :
If these things have confused my memories of her So that I could not draw her face
Even if I had skill and the colours,
Yet because her face is so like these things
They but draw me nearer unto her in my thought
And of her come upon my mind gently, As dew upon the petals of roses.
Faces fragile, pale, yet flushed a little, like petals of roses :
If these things have confused my memories of her So that I could not draw her face
Even if I had skill and the colours,
Yet because her face is so like these things
They but draw me nearer unto her in my thought
And of her come upon my mind gently, As dew upon the petals of roses.
Ezra-Pound-Provenca-English
