Belated poetry:

[highlyeccentric]

In an artist's studio
Christina Rosetti

One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
A saint, an angel — every canvas means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.

---

Forgot this morning. This one came across my Tumblr dash a few days ago. Is good. Is obviously talking about Dante Gabriel's studio.

Comments

[gominokouhai]

Apologies for off-topicness, but your expertise may be welcomed on this post.

All I have to say about the poem is: wow, Christina Rosetti!... no wait I'm thinking of Christina Ricci. I am shallow and male and I apologize.

[tree_and_leaf]

Excellent. And a little creepy (and somewhat ambivalent about her brother's obsessions? I wouldn't blame her).