The hand that carved, has left a touch
of melancholy there,
But graced in splendour such,
you’re wont to halt and stare.

Caught as a vision in a moment rare
beauty glowing in all its form
veiled in modesty, but yet so bare
full of peace in midst of storm.

Man’s quest for love, led him to freeze
his desire, in marble forever,
the tempest that grew from such a breeze,
made immortal his vain endeavour.

The mind that conceived this beauty – born –
this captured thought a glow,
this masterpiece, made to nature scorn,
that it itself was struck with awe!

His goal then, mute before him here
waiting, for his breath, to live!
he begged of all: he has cause to fear
his love to him to give.

So full of warmth, she bides, very near,
trapped in his art divine –
while he rages, for the life, he holds so dear
and knows – he will only pine!

For the trick of fate is to give us men
a gift, a will to create
the loveliest forms – and leave them then
sans life, sans love.inanimate!!!