Elinor Wylie’s speaker begins by noticing how hatred marks people, cutting into faces like windblown sand cuts steel and leaving them sorrowful, scornful, or hard with pain. Then the tone shifts toward admiration for the person addressed, a “proud lady” whose face the world cannot harm. She has turned pain into grace and scorn into charm. The speaker says she took the arrows and slings meant to prick and bruise her and made them into wings for her heels, as if cruelty only lifts her higher. She has stolen the falcon’s eyes and the lion’s heart from the world that tried to tear her apart. Even the world’s harsh touch only sweetly chisels her lips into something composed and mysterious. The mood is defiant, elegant, and quietly triumphant.
A Proud Lady — Summary
Hate in the world's hand Can carve and set its seal Like the strong blast of sand Which cuts into steel.
I have seen how the finger of hate Can mar and mold Faces burned passionate And frozen cold.
Sorrowful faces worn As stone with rain, Faces writhing with scorn And sullen with pain.
But you have a proud face Which the world cannot harm, You have turned the pain to a grace And the scorn to a charm.
You have taken the arrows and slings Which prick and bruise And fashioned them into wings For the heels of your shoes.
From the world's hand which tries To tear you apart You have stolen the falcon's eyes And the lion's heart.
What has it done, this world, With hard finger tips, But sweetly chiseled and curled Your inscrutable lips?