24.06.2007, 11:01
The skilful pilot from the windy prow
Watches far off the markings of the sea,
And knows, long-studied in its charactery,
What rocks, what shoals, what currents hide below.
This can the skilful pilot do, with brow
Serene and certain; but not so to me
That mouth, those eyes, a subtler mystery,
Yield up the secrets of the heart. I know,
Poring upon the soul-chart of your face,
That all my searching, all my skill are vain.
I do but follow on some broken trace,
And please myself with guessing. Joy concurs
With grief, but neither can the script explain,
So veiled and various are the characters.
Watches far off the markings of the sea,
And knows, long-studied in its charactery,
What rocks, what shoals, what currents hide below.
This can the skilful pilot do, with brow
Serene and certain; but not so to me
That mouth, those eyes, a subtler mystery,
Yield up the secrets of the heart. I know,
Poring upon the soul-chart of your face,
That all my searching, all my skill are vain.
I do but follow on some broken trace,
And please myself with guessing. Joy concurs
With grief, but neither can the script explain,
So veiled and various are the characters.