I who have seen a tiny cloud, No bigger than my Lady's puff, Powder the Heavens with miles of soot, And make the seas all wild and rough; I who have seen that speck at last Sink half a fleet and drown its men, With waves, like eagles, swooping down To carry off both sheep and pen; I who have felt and seen all this, And trained my thoughts to quiet scorn Am still the man to dress Love's finger, Scratched by a little pin or thorn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WOMAN'S SHORTCOMINGS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING WOMAN'S CONSTANCY by JOHN DONNE THE CHALLENGE by ALEXANDER POPE THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PSALM 128 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE DEAD JOYS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ADVICE TO MY YOUNG WIFE by MAXWELL BODENHEIM STANZAS, ON PLANTING A BAY-TREE AT THE GRAVE OF CHURCHILL by JOHN CHALK CLARIS |