LUCIETTA, my deary, That fairest of faces! Is made up of kisses; But, in love, oft the case is Even stranger than this is -- There's another, that's slyer, Who touches me nigher, -- A Witch, an intriguer, Whose manner and figure Now piques me, excites me, Torments and delights me -- Coetera desunt. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WIND IN A FROLIC by WILLIAM HOWITT EROS TURANNOS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE END OF THE DAY by DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT THE SUNDEW by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE REMEMBRANCE by EGMONT HEGEL ARENS |