THIS crystal here That shines so clear, And carries in its womb a little day; Once hammer'd will appear Impure as dust, as dark as clay. Even such will prove Thy face, my love! When age shall soil the lustre of thine eyes, And all that red remove That on thy spicy lip now lies: Nor can a hand Again command, By any art, these ruins into frame, But they will sever'd stand, And ne'er compose the former same. Such is the case, Love! of thy face, Both desperate, in this you disagree -- Thy beauty needs must pass It, of itself, will constant be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ART ABOVE NATURE: TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK EPIGRAM: 101 by MARCUS VALERIUS MARTIALIS SONNET: 18. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT by JOHN MILTON A HEALTH by EDWARD COATE PINKNEY ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 49 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE LATTICE AT SUNRISE by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS (MIDNIGHT, SEPT. 19-20, 1881) by WALT WHITMAN |