THIS faint resemblance of thy charms, Though strong as mortal art could give, My constant heart of fear disarms, Revives my hopes, and bids me live. Here I can trace the locks of gold Which round thy snowy forehead wave, The cheeks which sprung from beauty's mould, The lips which made me beauty's slave. Here I can trace -- ah, no! that eye, Whose azure floats in liquid fire, Must all the painter's art defy, And bid him from the task retire. Here I behold its beauteous hue; But where's the beam so sweetly straying, Which gave a lustre to its blue, Like Luna o'er the ocean playing? Sweet copy! far more dear to me, Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, Than all the living forms could be, Save her who placed thee next my heart. She placed it, sad, with needless fear, Lest time might shake my wavering soul, Uneonscious that her image there Held every sense in fast control. Through hours, through years, through time, 't will cheer; My hope in gloomy moments raise; In life's last conflict 't will appear, And meet my fond expiring gaze. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KILLED IN ACTION by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TO LUCASTA ON GOING TO THE WARS FOR THE FOURTH TIME by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE MOUNTAIN TOMB: 1. TO A CHILD DANCING IN THE WIND by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS WHAT IS THE SPIRIT? by KATHARINE LEE BATES MYSTERIOUS LIFE by EMMA BERGSTROM PSALM 126 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE SMACK RACE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |