BLACK beamy hairs, which so seem to arise From the extraction of those eyes, That into you she destine-like doth spin The beams she spares, what time her soul retires, And by those hallow'd fires Keeps house all night within; Since from within her awful front you shine As threads of life which she doth twine, And thence ascending with your fatal rays, Do crown those temples where love's wonders wrought We afterwards see brought To vulgar light and praise; Lighten through all your regions, till we find The causes why we are grown blind, That when we should your glories comprehend, Our sight recoils and turneth back again, And doth, as 'twere in vain, Itself to you extend. Is it because past black there is not found A fix'd or horizontal bound, And so, as it doth terminate the white, It may be said all colours to enfold, And in that kind to hold Somewhat of infinite? Or is it that the centre of our sight Being veiled in its proper night Discerns your blackness by some other sense Than that by which it doth pi'd colours see, Which only therefore be Known by their difference? Tell us, when on her front in curls you lie, So diap'red from that black eye That your reflected forms may make us know That shining light in darkness all would find, Were they not upward blind With the sunbeams below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SETTLER: AMERICA IN THE MAKING by ALFRED BILLINGS STREET THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN MANHATTAN ARMING by WALT WHITMAN THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 10. THE PALATINE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE TRIUMPHS OF THY CONQUERING POWER by WILLIAM HILEY BATHURST THE DEAD MISTRESS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE PSALM 109 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |