Say not of Beauty she is good, Or aught but beautiful, Or sleek to doves' wings of the wood Her wild wings of a gull. Call her not wicked; that word's touch Consumes her like a curse; But love her not too much, too much, For that is even worse. O, she is neither good nor bad, But innocent and wild! Enshrine her and she dies, who had The hard heart of a child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE BOLDNESS IN LOVE by THOMAS CAREW TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN VICKSBURG by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING TO BED by JONATHAN SWIFT IMPROMPTU ON CHARLES II (2) by JOHN WILMOT |