WHY presumes thy pride on that that must so private be, Scarce that it can good be called, though it seems best to thee, Best of all that Nature framed or curious eye can see? 'Tis thy beauty, foolish Maid, that, like a blossom, grows; Which who views no more enjoys than on a bush a rose, That, by many's handling, fades: and thou art one of those. If to one thou shalt prove true and all beside reject, Then art thou but one man's good; which yields a poor effect: For the commonest good by far deserves the best respect. But if for this goodness thou thyself wilt common make, Thou art then not good at all: so thou canst no way take But to prove the meanest good or else all good forsake. Be not then of beauty proud, but so her colours bear That they prove not stains to her, that them for grace should wear: So shalt thou to all more fair than thou wert born appear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAKING OF MAN by JOHN WHITE CHADWICK BINSEY POPLARS (FELLED 1879) by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS UPON A WASP CHILLED WITH COLD by EDWARD TAYLOR QUATRAIN: THE PARCAE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE DEAMON LOVER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AH, BIND MY HANDS by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |