Doubt there hath been, when with his golden chain The orator so far men's hearts doth bind That no pace else their guided steps can find But as he them more short or slack doth rein Whether with words this sovereignty he gain, Clothed with fine tropes, with strongest reasons lined, Or else pronouncing grace, wherewith his mind Prints his own lively form in rudest brain. Now judge by this: in piercing phrases late The anatomy of all my woes I wrate, Stella's sweet breath the same to me did read. O voice, O face, maugre my speech's might, Which wooed woe, most ravishing delight Even those sad words even in sad me did breed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HEART KNOWETH ITS OWN BITTERNESS' (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI BEAT! BEAT! DRUMS! by WALT WHITMAN GOOD NIGHT by HESTER A. BENEDICT PSALM 9, SELECTION by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE RECOGNITION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN CONTENTED MIND by JANE (HUGHES) BRERETON |