She was a homely person, Her eyes were sharp as pain, Her face was shapeless as a blot, Or like a pallid stain. She thought that dabs of color On lip and cheek was low, If women needed hectic cheeks God would have made them so. Tall were her stiff white collars, Plain was her long black dress; Her hair had known no ripples, Her body no caress. The hungry years went by her, With pain and labor blent, And in the daily fret of life She seemed serene, content. And she who flouted fashion, Till her last gasp of breath, Succumbed at last to vanity, To meet her lover . . . death. They found her clad in satin, As loud as laughter's peal, Her hair in ringlets; cheeks blush pink; Her lips like cochineal. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS by ROBERT BURNS THE FISHER by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE THE DESERTED LOVER CONSOLETH HIMSELF ... by THOMAS WYATT MYRTILLA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 72, 73, 74, 75. AWWAL, AKHIR, THAHIR, BATIN by EDWIN ARNOLD POVERTY PARTS GUDE COMPANIE by JOANNA BAILLIE |