TULLY, the queen of beauty's boast, Through all America the toast, Does, that her face more eyes may catch, Reform it with a negro-patch. Venus for ever does delight In thickest shade, and ebon night. Does not Tom Serjeant try to make His person passant dressed in black? Observe the coal of purest jet The fiercest flame does still beget. As the most cloudy mysteries The mussulmans devoutest prize, So smartest beaux and wits adore The gloomy grace of Molly Moor. The proudest snowy forms at last Must in a sable pall be dressed: E'en Dolly Dowglass' self must go Down to the negro-shades below; Into the pitchy kingdom, where This raven lass shall queen appear; And sit on Proserpina's throne, When she is up to Ceres gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COUNTRY FAITH by NORMAN ROWLAND GALE THE PRESENT CRISIS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL MY HAPPINESS by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE MAUSOLEUM by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE TAPESTRY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE TWO TRAVELLERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |