(To the maiden with the hidden face in Abbeys painting) The other maidens raised their eyes to him Who stumbled in before them when the fight Had left him victor, with a victors right. I think his eyes with quick hot tears grew dim; He scarcely saw her swaying white and slim, And trembling slightly, dreaming of his might, Nor knew he touched her hand, as strangely light As a wan wraiths beside a rivers rim. The other maidens raised their eyes to see And only she has hid her face away, And yet I ween she loved him more than they, And very fairly fashioned was her face. Yet for Loves shame and sweet humility, She dared not meet him with their queen-like grace.
Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; Gifts