San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1923-02-17
THE PORTRAIT.

Midnight past. Not a sound of aught
Through the silent house, but the wind at his
prayers.
sat by the dying fire. and thought
Of the dear dead woman up stairs.
A night of tears! for the CHASTITY rain
And the moon looked forth, as though in pain,
With her face all white and wet
Nobody with me. my watch to keep,
But the friend Of my bosom. the man 1 love !;
And grief had sent him fast to sleep
In the chamber up above.
Nobody else, in the country place
All round. that knew of my loss beside,
But the good young Priest with the Raphael-face,
Who confessed her when she died
That good young Priest is Of gentle nerve.
And NV grief had moved him beyond, control;
For his lip grew white. as I could observe,
When he speeded her parting soul.
sat by the dreary hearth alone:
! thought !s of the pleasant, days of yore:
The woman ! loved is no more
"On her cold dead bosom my portrait lies
Which next to her heart she used to wear
Haunting it DER with her tender eyes
When my own face was not there.
1T is set all round with rubes red,
And pearls which n Peri might have kent
For each ruby there my heart hath hled
For each pearl my eyes have wept"
And Said-"Thc thing is precious TO me:
They will bury her soon in the churchyard clay ;
1t lies on her heart. and lost. must be
II l do not take it away"
I lighted my lamp at the dying flame.
And crept up the stairs that crraked for fright
Till into the chamber of death came,
Where she lay all in white.
The moon shone over her winding-sheot.
There stark she lay on her carven he'd:
Seven. burning tapers about her feet
And seven about her head.
As I stretched out my hand I held my breath ;
turned as ] drew the curtains apart:
| dared not look on the face Of death:
/ knew where TO find her heart.
thought at first. as my touch fell there.
1t had warmed that heart to life, with love:
For the thing | touched was warm l swear
And l could feel it move.
T was the hand of man, that was moving slow
Ger the heart Of the dcad,-from the other
side:
And ut once the sweat broke over my brow:
'Who is robbing the corpse?' ! cried
Opposite me by the tapers' light
The friend Of my bosom. the man loved
Stood over the corpse, and NIL as white.
And neither of us moved.
What do YOU here. my friend The man
,,,I Looked first at me, and then at the dead
There is a portrait here" he began:
There is. II is mine I said.
Said the friend of my bosom. "Yours. no doubt.
The portrait was till n month ago.
When this suffering angel took that out.
And placed mine there I know
This woman. she loved me- we'll" said T.
"a month ago." said my friend TO mo:
"And in your throat" I groaned you lie :"
He answered. Let us Sec"
Enough" I returned. '1ct the dead dcciI:
And whatsoever the portrait prove.
His shall il he. when the cause is tried,
Where Death is arragned by Love"
We found the portrait there in its place:
We opened it bv the tapers shine:
The gems were all unchanged: the face
Was-neitheE his nor mine.
zone nail drives out another. at least,
The face of the portrait there I cried.
as our friends. the RaDhael-faced young Priest,
Who confessed her when she died"
The setting is all Of rubcs red.
And pearls which FPri might have kept.
For each ruby there my heart hath bled:
For each pearl my eyes have went.
Robert Bulwcr-Lytton.