More beautiful than any gift you gave You were, a child so beautiful as to seem To promise ruin what no child can have Or woman give. And so a Roman gem I choose to be your token: here a laurel Springs to its young height, hangs a broken limb. And here a group of women wanly quarrel At a sale of Cupids. A hawk looks at them. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CARD-DEALER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SONG OF THE FLOUR-MILL by EDWIN ARNOLD VARIATIONS ON A THEME by ALFRED GOLDSWORTHY BAILEY AT CAMDEN by KATHARINE LEE BATES A HYMN OF THE SEA by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |