Are we not like that actor of old time, Who wore his mask so long his face took Its likeness? - Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Statues but known from shapes of the earth,
By being too lovely for mortal birth;
Paintings whose colours of life were caught
From the fairy tints in the rainbow wrought;
Music whose sighs had a spell like those
That float on the sea at the evening's close
Language so silvery, that every word
Was like the lute's awakening chord;

Had my eye never on the beauty dwelt
Of human face, and my ear never drank
The music of a human voice; I feel
My spirit would have pour'd itself in song,
Have learn'd a language from the rustling leaves,
The singing of the birds, and of the tide.

Where, oh, where's the chain to fling,
One that will chain Cupid's wing—
One that will have longer power
Than the April sun or shower?