Sweet smile, the daughter of the Queene of Love, Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art, With which she wonts to temper angry Jove, When all the gods he threats with thundring dart: Sweet is thy vertue, as thy selfe sweet art. For when on me thou shinedst late in sadnesse, A melting pleasance ran through every part, And me revived with hart robbing gladnesse: Whylest rapt with joy resembling heavenly madnes, My soule was ravisht quite, as in a traunce, And feeling thence no more her sorowes sadnesse, Fed on the fulnesse of that chearefull glaunce. More sweet than nectar, or ambrosiall meat, Seem'd every bit which thenceforth I did eat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. PURKAPILE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE ROSE AND THE BEE by SARA TEASDALE EPICUREAN by WILLIAM JAMES LINTON JONAH'S SONG, FR. MOBY DICK by HERMAN MELVILLE RETURN OF SPRING by PIERRE DE RONSARD KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES [MAY 31, 1862] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE SILENT VOICES by ALFRED TENNYSON THE SORROWS OF WERTHER by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY TO THE VERS LIBRIST WHO USES ONLY THE MINOR KEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |