'Mongst all the creatures in this spacious round Of the birds' kind, the Phoenix is alone, Which best by you of living things is known; None like to that, none like to you is found. Your beauty is the hot and splend'rous sun, The precious spices be your chaste desire, Which being kindled by that heav'nly fire, Your life so like the Phoenix's begun; Yourself thus burned in that sacred flame, With so rare sweetness all the heav'ns perfuming, Again increasing as you are consuming, Only by dying born the very same; And, wing'd by fame, you to the stars ascend, So you of time shall live beyond the end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HUNDRED COLLARS by ROBERT FROST MENAPHON: SEPHESTIA'S [CRADLE] SONG TO HER CHILD by ROBERT GREENE INDIFFERENCE by GEOFFREY ANKETELL STUDDERT-KENNEDY LAUS DEO! by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER OF BENEVOLENCE: AN EPISTLE TO EUMENES by JOHN ARMSTRONG PSALM 38. DOMINE NE IN FURORE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: 'MEDIO DE FONTE LEPORUM SURGIT AMARI..' by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |