If I kisse Anthea's brest, There I smell the Phenix nest: If her lip, the most sincere Altar of Incense, I smell there. Hands, and thighs, and legs, are all Richly Aromaticall. Goddesse Isis cann't transfer Musks and Ambers more from her: Nor can Juno sweeter be, When she lyes with Jove, then she. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON SIR PALMES FAIRBORNE'S TOMB, IN WESTERMINSTER ABBEY by JOHN DRYDEN THE HOUR OF DEATH by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 47. THE CARPENTER'S SON by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE DREAMER by SHAEMAS O'SHEEL SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 49. THE ENGLISH RACE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MISERABLE NIGHT by AVENELLE WILMETH BLAIR SUBLIME ILLUSION by FLORENCE BROOKS |