Almost afraid they led her in: (A dwarf more piteous none could find);Withered as some weird leaf, and thin, The woman was .- and wan and blind.
Into his mirror with a smile .- Not vain to be so fair, but glad .-The South-born painter looked the while, With eyes than Christ's alone less sad.
"Mother of God," in pale surprise He whispered, "What am I to paint?"A voice that sounded from the skies Said to him: "Raphael, a saint."
She sat before him in the sun; He scarce could look at her, and sheWas still and silent. "It is done," He said. "Oh, call the world to see!"
Ah, that was she in veriest truth .- Transcendent face and haloed hair;The beauty of divinest youth, Divinely beautiful, was there.
Herself into her picture passed .- Herself and not her poor disguiseMade up of time and dust. At last One saw her with the Master's eyes.
