Poems (Rice)/To an Unknown Portrait

by Maria Theresa Rice

TO AN UNKNOWN PORTRAIT.

WE never have met, I know not the name,
 Yet strangely familiar thy face;
What of thy history, or what of thy fame,
 I find not a word, not a trace.
Thy pardon I crave, if bold I do seem,
 This pertinent question to ask;
Perchance we have met, have met in a dream,
 But when? will the future unmask?

O where is thy home? say, dwellest thou near,
 In city, or mountain, or dale?
Where are thy kindred, the loved and the dear—
 Wilt thou the mystery unveil?
Gaze not on me thus, but speak, I implore,
 In candor the story declare;
Where art thou straying? I ask thee once more;
 This silence I never could bear.

What power possessing, what magic, my friend—
 For a friend thou truly must be—
For my wondering spirit so proud, to unbend
 To render a tribute to thee;
I weep and I smile, e'en now as I plead,
 With a sense of exquisite pain;
Forgive me; I'm wayward, aye, wayward indeed;
 Say not I am pleading in vain.

One hour I would ask sweet converse to hold,
 The purest of thoughts to express;
And when the closed leaves of my heart I unfold,
 I am sure with thy prayers thou wilt bless;
Thou wouldst come to me then, in sadness, in pain,
 Thy spirit's own bride I would be;
To wander, thou ne'er wouldst leave me again—
 Sad stranger, then hasten to me.