STILL to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed -- Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free, -- Such sweet neglect more taketh me Than all the adulteries of art: They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDSUMMER FROST (1) by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE LUTE OBEYS by THOMAS WYATT VERSES DESIGNED TO BE SENT TO MR. ADAMS by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST GHOST OF THE BEAUTIFUL PAST by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER by ROBERT BROWNING BALLAD OF PLAGIARY by JAMES BRANCH CABELL HIGH AND LOW by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH THE RED CROSS OF ENGLAND: ENTRY OF THE MARINES by ELIZA COOK |