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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348449" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Portrait</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HER glance is equable, serene; <br> She looks at life with level brow; <br> She strides through circumstance—a queen! <br> To compromise she cannot bow— <br> Even to love she will not lean! <br> Not hers the head that, like a flower, <br> Trembles upon a swaying stem; <br> Her neck is firm-curved as a tower, <br> And on her brow for diadem <br> Shine steadfastness and peace and power. <br> She wills no limits to her scope; <br> Her head imperiously borne <br> Above her gradual bosom's slope; <br> Her chin a dainty-moulded scorn, <br> Her eyes a deep, untarnished hope. <br> By gusts of passion undistressed, <br> She spurs not on a panting pulse; <br> Throned in her womanhood, at rest, <br> No ripples of her moods convulse <br> The tidal swayings of her breast. <br> She is no fevered Sex to flush— <br> A woman-weakness that should yield, <br> A fruit for love to clench and crush, <br> A fragile warmth that arms should shield, <br> A whisper that a kiss should hush! <br> <br> Yet with the tears her soul has shed <br> Her innocence is seared within; <br> Her heart is not a white thing dead: <br> She lifted dauntless eyes to Sin, <br> And from her splendid frown he fled! <br> But when love breathless to her trips <br> And joy within her laughs elate, <br> Her soul to no surrender slips— <br> She meets the kiss that crowns her mate <br> With vivid eyes and virile lips!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Arthur+Henry+Adams">Arthur Henry Adams</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348449" data-title="A Portrait de Arthur Henry Adams" data-description="HER glance is equable, serene; 
 She looks at life with level brow; 
 She strides through circumstance—a queen! 
 To compromise she cannot bow— 
 Even to love she will not lean! 
 Not hers the head that, like a flower, 
 Trembles upon a swayin..."></div>
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