'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive, If you will lead these graces to the grave, And leave the world no copy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST ON THE DEATH OF MR. WILLIAM HERVEY by ABRAHAM COWLEY ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 16. TO CALEB HARDINGE, M.D. by MARK AKENSIDE THE SISTER AT A MATERNITY HOSPITAL by R. ALEXANDER BATE TRAVELLING GIPSIES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE RECRUITING SERGEANT; A MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT: AIR by ISAAC BICKERSTAFFE |