The Beauty Of Leah - Part 4 Poem by Martin Greyford

Or the chisel of a sculpor.
Leah's beauty is not in her black hair but in her virtue and purity which surround it.
Not in her large eyes but in the light which emanates from them,
Not in her black lips but in the sweetness of her words,
Not in her ivory neck but in its slight bow to the front.
Nor is it in her perfect figure,
But in the nobility of her spirit,
Burning like a white torch between earth and sky.

Her beauty is like a gift of poetry.
But poets are unhappy people,
For no matter how high their spirits reach
They will still be enclosed in an envelope of tears.
Leah is deeply thoughtful rather than talkative,
And her silence is a kind of music that
Carried one to a world of dreams and made
Him listen to the throbbing of his heart,
And see the ghosts of his thoughts

And feeling before him.
Looking her in the eyes
She wore a cloak of deep sorrow
Through her life which increased her strange
Beauty and dignity, as a tree in blossom
Is more lovely when seen through the mist of dawn.