A Vision of Mary
Should I sculpture your body from a stone,
that's heaved from beneath the dirt of this ground?
Although your created from dust alone,
most exquisite, no fairer one around.
What mold could I create to shape a sigh?
Design a cloud? Fashion a gentle breeze?
A delicate kiss? A soft whispered cry?
If, cold dark stone of you, I could apprize!
What line would I carve? What edge would I sand?
You stand opaque in the calm of my storm.
How could I chisel the nail of you hand?
A figure dimensioned in your dear form.
This vision of your beauty is engraved
in these tender eyes, lovingly enslaved.
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