WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights; Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now. So all their praises are but prophecies Of this our time, all you prefiguring; And, for they looked but with divining eyes, They had not skill enough your worth to sing; For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REBEL COLOR-BEARERS AT SHILOH by HERMAN MELVILLE SONNET: 65 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS OPEN MY EYES by ALICE E. BAILEY SHAKESPEARE READS THE KING JAMES VERSION by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE BEST JUDGMENT by ALICE CARY TWILIGHT by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON |