IN Nature's pieces still I see Some error that might mended be; Something my wish could still remove, Alter or add; but my fair love Was fram'd by hands far more divine, For she hath every beauteous line: Yet I had been far happier, Had Nature, that made me, made her. Then likeness might (that love creates) Have made her love what now she hates; Yet, I confess, I cannot spare From her just shape the smallest hair; Nor need I beg from all the store Of heaven for her one beauty more. She hath too much divinity for me: You gods, teach her some more humanity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CRADLE SONG, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LAST RESERVATION by WALTER LEARNED SONNET: DEATH-WARNINGS by FRANCISCO GOMEZ DE QUEVEDO Y VILLEGAS A WISH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI EPITAPH by KENNETH SLADE ALLING SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 2 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON VICISSITUDES by GAMALIEL BRADFORD |