As a white candle
 In a holy place,
 So is the beauty
 Of an aged face.

 As the spent radiance
 Of the winter sun,
 So is a woman
 With her travail done,

 Her brood gone from her,
 And her thoughts as still
 As the waters
 Under a ruined mill.

I am entranced by the quiet simplicity of this short poem by Joseph Campbell, an Irish Poet. The lines move with easy grace tracing the sad universal tale of a woman and her sacrifice as she moves along life to “the beauty of an aged face” before reaching the lonely furrowed, faded existence.

P.G.Murthy

Links

We’ve run one Joseph Campbell poem before [Poem #338]. There’s a short biographical note attached there.