in an artist's studio*

eunicee jotted on Tuesday, June 28, 2005 @ 6:44 PM

-In an artist's studio-
One face looks out from all his canvases,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans:
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queen in opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer-greens,
A saint, an angel -- every canvas means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.
--christina rossetti

lit paper's over and i'm dead. thought i was abit superficial in my analysis, ain't deep enough. blahh. it was so abstract i almost x_x died looking thru the poem. one line was about 'my pet cat/ in his disorder vomitted out worms that crawl/ swiftly away" and about cockroaches getting drunk on DDT and worms flecked with cat's blood and a man keeping a soldier's dead blue eyeballs and he clicking it when he talks. metaphorical? i dunno. weird and insane? i agree. two done. four papers more.
eunice*