Her beauty is a wasted thing, She's neither sweet nor kind; And flowers that have no other eyes Than raindrops soon go blind. She is a park that has no deer To give it life or grace; Until I think the wilderness A more enchanted place. Her Ten Commandments are her own, She knows no other Creed; The only babies in her eyes Are selfish thoughts and greed. Her beauty is a wasted thing, Is Nature's loss and pain; When will the little, plain, brown bird Come back and sing again? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOWER OF SKULLS by ISAAC ROSENBERG SONNET: 48 by GEORGE SANTAYANA A LETTER FROM ITALY by JOSEPH ADDISON OUR SUSSEX DOWNS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES DARWINISM by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON LINES WRITTEN ON HEARING THE NEWS OF THE DEATH OF NAPOLEON by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE WINDOW; OR, THE SONG OF THE WRENS: MARRIAGE MORNING by ALFRED TENNYSON |