Portrait of Sophie Gray (1857) J E Millais
Sophie's Heart My sister wears a cross of wings, The golden thread in her hair sings, My hair is filled with flame and smoke, That lifts my chin until I choke, There’s barely any white to stitch, My heart is picked out in the pitch. I’m not so young as not to see The pain you garlanded on me, Your joy is tainted by a snare, Your missteps taken into air, Oh, how those shadows cloak your bark, My heart is picked out in the dark. Will I repeat mistakes and pain? Will I know infamy or fame? Will I be met with smile or sneer? Will I evoke a laugh or tear? No matter how defiantly, I can’t foresee my destiny, Your theater pressed me to the back, My heart is picked out in the black.
