1. THY Mayd? ah, find some nobler theme Whereon thy doubts to place; Nor by a low suspect blaspheme The glories of thy face. 2. Alas, she makes Thee shine so faire So exquisitely bright, That her dim Lamp must disappeare Before thy potent Light. 3. Three hours each morne in dressing Thee, Maliciously are spent; And make that Beauty Tyranny, That's else a Civill Government. 4. The adorning thee with so much art, Is but a barbarous skill; 'Tis like the poys'ning of a Dart Too apt before to kill. 5. The Ministring Angells none can see; 'Tis not their beauty 'or face, For which by men they worshipt be; But their high office and their place. Thou art my Goddesse, my Saint, Shee: I pray to Her, onely to pray to Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 6. A WIFE WAITS by THOMAS HARDY THE ROPEWALK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 61. AL-MO'HYI by EDWIN ARNOLD FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: COUNTENANCE FOREBODING EVIL by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES REMARKS TO THE BACK OF A PEW by WILLIAM ROSE BENET WINTER NIGHTS; A BACKWARD LOOK by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |