Stella is sick, and in that sick-bed lies Sweetness, that breathes and pants as oft as she; And grace, sick too, such fine conclusions tries That sickness brags itself best graced to be. Beauty is sick, but sick in so fair guise That in that paleness beauty's white we see; And joy, which is inseparate from these eyes, Stella now learns (strange case!) to weep in thee. Love moves thy pain, and like a faithful page, As thy looks stir, runs up and down, to make All folks prest at thy will thy pain to assuage; Nature with care sweats for her darling's sake, Knowing worlds pass, ere she enough can find Of such heaven stuff, to clothe so heavenly mind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DARKLING THRUSH by THOMAS HARDY MICHAEL; A PASTORAL POEM by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: THE FOURTH CANTO, OR LAST QUARTER by WILLIAM BASSE THE LAST MAN by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SONNET: AT MY WORD by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |