She lies in truth at rest,
Clothe-less upon the earth.
In sleep she’s still the best
Of all live beauty’s worth.

I look, for great joy’s sake,
To she who’s passed the test
Of art that is not fake
Where beauty lies at rest.

I hardly hear her breathe,
Her heart beats softer still;
And yet, not far beneath
Moves strong the artist’s will.

Her face I do not see,
It’s story does not show;
Imagination’s free
To draw faint sky-wave glow.

Her shoulders my way turn;
Warm back and thighs express
The unseen hands that burn
The artist’s sketched caress.

She’s here, past stars of gold—
High deed of all life’s best!
And I’ve a world to hold
Where beauty lies at rest.