Was it the worke of Nature or of Art, Which tempred so the feature of her face, That pride and meeknesse, mixt by equall part, Doe both appeare t' adorne her beauties grace? For with mild pleasance, which doth pride displace, She to her love doth lookers eyes allure; And with sterne countenance back again doth chace Their looser lookes that stir up lustes impure. With such strange termes her eyes she doth inure, That with one looke she doth my life dismay, And with another doth it streight recure: Her smile me drawes, her frowne me drives away. Thus doth she traine and teach me with her lookes: Such art of eyes I never read in bookes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LONELY HOUSE by EMILY DICKINSON THE WIND AND THE MOON by GEORGE MACDONALD SHADOWS IN THE WATER by THOMAS TRAHERNE THE HINT O' HAIRST by HEW AINSLIE THE QUEEN IN FRANCE; AN ANCIENT SCOTTISH BALLAD by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |