Book 2 — MONA LISA.

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BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD.

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Leonardo de Vinci is said to have been four years employed upon the portrait of Mona Lisa, a fair Florentine, without being able, after all, to come up to the idea of her beauty.

Artist! lay the brush aside,

Twilight gathers chill and gray;

Turn the picture to the wall—

Thou hast wrought in vain to-day.

Thrice twelve months have hastened by

Since thy canvas first grew bright

With that brow’s bewitching beauty,

And that dark eye’s melting light.

Yet the early sunbeam shineth

On thy tireless labors yet,

And the portrait stands before thee,

Till the evening sun has set.

Faultless is the robe that falleth

Round that form of matchless grace;

Faultless is the softened outline

Of the fair and oval face.

Thou hast caught the wondrous beauty

Of the round cheek’s roseate hue;

And the full red lips are smiling,

As this morn they smiled on you.

To that lady thou hast given

Immortality below,

Wherefore, then, with moody glances

Dost thou from thy labor go?

From the living face of beauty

Beams the soul’s expressive ray,

And, with all thy god-like genius,

This thou never canst portray!

Of the countless throng around me,

Each hath labors like to thine;

Each, methinks, some Mona Lisa

In his spirit’s inmost shrine.

Visions haunt us from our childhood

Of a love so pure, so true,

Seraphs unawares might envy

As their white wings fan the Blue;

Visions that elude forever,

As the silent years depart,

Some unhappy ones and weary—

Mona Lisas of the heart!

Dreams of a divine completeness

That we struggle to attain,

’Mid the doubts and toils harassing

Of our earthly life in vain;

Poet fancies we endeavor

To imprint upon the scroll,

Yet for worded utterance failing—

Mona Lisas of the soul!