More beautiful than any gift you gave You were, a child so beautiful as to seem To promise ruin what no child can have Or woman give. And so a Roman gem I choose to be your token: here a laurel Springs to its young height, hangs a broken limb. And here a group of women wanly quarrel At a sale of Cupids. A hawk looks at them. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPIGRAM ON MY WEDDING DAY: TO PENELOPE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (1) by THOMAS CAREW BOADICEA; AN ODE by WILLIAM COWPER ST. JOHN'S, CAMBRIDGE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 72. THE CHOICE (2) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |