We cannot fathom his mysterious head, Through the veiled eyes no flickering ray is sent; But from his torso gleaming light is shed As from a candelabrum; inward bent His glance there glows and lingers. Otherwise The round breast would not blind you with its grace, Nor could the soft-curved circle of the thighs Steal to the arc whence issues a new race. Nor could this stark and stunted stone display Vibrance beneath the shoulders' heavy bar, Nor shine like fur upon a beast of prey, Nor break forth from its lines like a great star-- Each spot is like an eye that fixed on you With kindling magic makes you live anew. Rodin has pronounced Rilke's essay the supreme interpretation of his work. A f…
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