British Library Brown and Black Reader
The normal word is shadows. That’s too strong
A term for soft gradations on his face
Of light and lesser light. They fall along
This ridge, that slant of skin, and make the trace
Of beauty blend into grace where lonely
Manliness should linger. In harsher light
The planes would fall away, stark in only
Handsomeness and that would be too trite,
For darker skin and darkest hair require
These molded subtleties beneath that brow,
Along those cheekbones touched with muted fire,
Which sculpting marble gods alone should know.
The eyebrows arc in loveliness across
This dusk, twin black comets defying loss.