deep-mark'd

Updated: May 3, 2025

Behold that man, with lanky locks, Which hang in strange confusion o'er his brow; And nicely scan his garments, rent and patch'd, In colours varied, like a pictured map; And watch his restless glance now grave, now gay As saddening thought, or merry humour's flash Sweeps o'er the deep-mark'd lines which care hath left; As when the world is steep'd in blackest night, The forked lightning flashes through the sky, And all around leaps into life and light, To sink again in darkness blacker still.

Susanna Moodie - Roughing It in the Bush