SAY, why on your hair yet stays That snow resembling white; Since the sun's less powerful rays Thaw'd that which fell last night? Sure to hinder those extremes Of love they might bestow; Art hath hid your golden beams Within a fleece of snow. Yet as on a cloth of gold, With silver flowers wrought o'er, We do now and then behold A radiant wire or more: So sometimes the amorous air Doth with your fair locks play, And unclouds a golden hair; And then breaks forth the day. On your cheeks the rosy morn We plainly then descry; And a thousand Cupids born, And playing in each eye. Now we all are at a stay, And know not where to turn us; If we wish that snow away, Those glorious beams would burn us. If it should not fall amain, And cloud your loveful eyes, Each gentle heart would soon be slain, And made their sacrifice. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HER LIKENESS by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK WHY THUS LONGING by HARRIET WINSLOW SEWALL YOU DON'T BELIEVE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE DYING DRAGOMAN by MATHILDE BLIND TO LOVE IS TO BE BORN ANEW by MARION LOUISE BLISS THE BARGAIN by CLAIRE STEWART BOYER THE DREAM MAID (SUGGESTED BY GENE STRATTON PORTER'S 'THE HARVESTER') by HENRY CHAPPELL |