Lamentation for the Face
Because of smiles that often play
Upon your lively face
And frowns, and what they have to say,
Expressions I can trace
That now are hidden ear to ear
With varied kinds of threads,
Of colors or with patterned cheer,
Or blacks or blues or reds,
I’m still disheartened when I glance
At you in this disguise
Because it hides your countenance
And so affronts my eyes.
Yet here I sadly must confess
I wear one when I must
But still and only, nonetheless
In utter self-disgust!
How long, alas, must we abide
This sad, grotesque charade
That masquerades, I shan’t deny,
A pitiful parade?
To say the least, I hesitate
To think that this must be,
To save from some sorry fate,
Some new necessity.
But more than that do I abhor
The sad attempt to claim
That this could yet be something more,
Some new designer’s aim.
How lovely, how desirable
This mask, you’d have me think,
Could be if just perhaps I will
Accept it and its ink,
Coordinated with the clothes
You chose to wear today,
As if it were a thing you chose
To complement, you say.
And thus you’d wish that I believed
Your mask is better than
The lovely visage you received
From God’s almighty hand.
O mask, by this you’re telling lies!
You lie! You falsely guide!
So now and ever I’ll despise
That you are wont to hide
The image on a human face
That man from God received:
His own! the cherished human race!
No threads were better weaved.
The face of God and man is one:
The beauty of the Lord,
The splendor of the only Son,
The Incarnated Word.
But now instead a mask I see
In every public place.
It fails, and that, so miserably,
To stand in for your face.