For her last three years
Elizabeth Richard
Shared her house with John Copley's portrait of her,
Smiling sometimes at what a plain stout woman
The beautiful Miss Garland had become.
Late at night she'd tell it things that puzzled her
Or that made her measurelessly sad.
The picture has been thinking hard about all this;
Since 1771. You can see in its dark eyes that
It hopes any day now to find the right words
To answer, to comfort, to console
Shared her house with John Copley's portrait of her,
Smiling sometimes at what a plain stout woman
The beautiful Miss Garland had become.
Late at night she'd tell it things that puzzled her
Or that made her measurelessly sad.
The picture has been thinking hard about all this;
Since 1771. You can see in its dark eyes that
It hopes any day now to find the right words
To answer, to comfort, to console
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