A Proud Lady

Source: Favim

Hate in the world's hand

Can carve and set its seal

Like the strong blast of sand

Which cuts into steel.

I have seen how the finger of hate

Can mar and mould

Faces burned passionate

And frozen cold.

Sorrowful faces worn

As stone with rain,

Faces writhing with scorn

And sullen with pain.

But you have a proud face

Which the world cannot harm,

You have turned the pain to a grace

And the scorn to a charm.

You have taken the arrows and slings

Which prick and bruise

And fashioned them into wings

For the heels of your shoes.

From the world's hand which tries

To tear you apart

You have stolen the falcon's eyes

And the lion's heart.

What has it done, this world,

With hard finger-tips,

But sweetly chiseled and curled

Your inscrutable lips?

~ Elinor Morton Wylie