When some shall say, Faire once my Silvia was; Thou wilt complaine, False now's thy Looking-glasse: Which renders that quite tarnisht, wch was green; And Priceless now, what Peerless once had been: Upon thy Forme more wrinkles yet will fall, And comming downe, shall make no noise at all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WATER MILL by SARAH DOUDNEY THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 17 by OMAR KHAYYAM LINES PLACED OVER A CHIMNEY-PIECE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD PSALM 67 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HER NAME LIBERTY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT A SONG OF APPLE-GATHERING by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE FOURE MONARCHIES: ASSYRIAN. SEMIRAMIS by ANNE BRADSTREET |