A Girl of Pompeii

Edward Sanford Martin (1856–1939)

A PUBLIC haunt they found her in:

She lay asleep, a lovely child;

The only thing left undefiled

Where all things else bore taint of sin.

Her charming contours fixed in clay

The universal law suspend,

And turn Time’s chariot back, and blend

A thousand years with yesterday.

A sinless touch, austere yet warm,

Around her girlish figure pressed,

Caught the sweet imprint of her breast,

And held her, surely clasped, from harm.

Truer than work of sculptor’s art

Comes this dear maid of long ago,

Sheltered from woful chance, to show

A spirit’s lovely counterpart,

And bid mistrustful men be sure

That form shall fate of flesh escape,

And, quit of earth’s corruptions, shape

Itself, imperishably pure.