THIS still, clear, radiant face! doth it resemble In each fair, faultless lineament thine own? Methinks on that enchanting lip doth tremble The soul that breathes thy lyre's melodious tone. The soul of music, O! ethereal spirit, Fills the dream-haunted sadness of thine eyes; Sweet Poetess! thou surely didst inherit Thy gifts celestial from the upper skies. Clear on the expansion of that snow-white forehead Sits intellectual beauty, meekly throned; -- Yet, O! the expression tells that thou hast sorrow'd, And in thy yearning, human heart atoned For thy soul's lofty gifts! -- on earth, O, never Was the deep thirsting of thy bosom still'd! -- The "aching void" followed thee here forever, The Better Land thy DREAM OF LOVE fulfilled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMING STORM' (A PICTURE BY R. S. GIFFORD) by HERMAN MELVILLE SONNET: 106 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE LAUS VENERIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 4. AFFECTED INDIFFERENCE by MARK AKENSIDE |