"LADY BLESSINGTON!" cried the glad usher aloud, As she swam through the doorway, like moon from a cloud. I know not which most her face beam'd with,—fine creature! Enjoyment, or judgment, or wit, or good-nature. Perhaps you have known what it is to feel longings To pat buxom shoulders at routs and such throngings;— Well,—think what it was, at a vision like that! A Grace after dinner!—a Venus grown fat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD MAN OF VERONA by CLAUDIAN A CALIFORNIA CHRISTMAS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER TO MADAME DE SEVIGNE by MATHIEU DE MONTREUIL SARGENT'S PORTRAIT OF EDWIN BOOTH AT THE PLAYERS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LE GUIGNON by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |