I AM lovely as a dream of stone. Men sicken, Against my breast deep-bruiséd. I bring sore Travail of Love to poets, evermore Dumb as the Dust that no desire may quicken. Sphinx-like I am throned aloof; as plumes that thicken The breast of swans my chill heart's white at core; All rhythm-offending tumult I abhor Who am never with mirth elate nor sorrow-stricken. Poets before my noble poise and gesture That hath the pomp of all the world for vesture, Waste their sad days in study of dry reams; For I, to keep these loving suitors loyal Hold mirrors up, that make all beauty royal, In wide eyes brimming with immortal beams. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SMALL COUNTRIES by JAMES GALVIN YOU KNOW WHAT PEOPLE SAY by JAMES GALVIN EPITAPH FOR A SOLDIER by DAVID IGNATOW JULY IN GEORGY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ON VIOLET'S WAFERS, SENT ME WHEN I WAS ILL by SIDNEY LANIER |