| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | Dante’s Mask | | By Héloïse Durant |
| | | AND this is all now left of thee—a mask | |
| Of grave, worn features, still so proud in death. | |
| No bitter jest can wound thee by a breath, | |
| Nor idle mocker now in scoffing ask | |
| Thy mission here. Completed all thy task, | 5 |
| And won forever the immortal wreath; | |
| While saddest of sad brows rests still beneath, | |
| Heart tempest-tost doth now in God’s light bask. | |
| Pale image of great poet and brave man, | |
| Thou art to me as monitor and friend. | 10 |
| When those sad lips and sunken eyes I scan, | |
| I see the lines of will that naught could rend; | |
| Dauntless to death, still free tho’ Florence ban, | |
| Proving thy strength, endurance to the end. | | | | |
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