OH, thou hadst been a wife for Shakespeare's self! No head, save some world-genius, ought to rest Above the treasures of that perfect breast, Or nightly draw fresh light from those keen stars Through which thy soul awes ours: yet thou art bound -- Oh waste of nature! -- to a craven hound; To shameless lust, and childish greed of pelf; Athene to a Satyr: was that link Forged by The Father's hand? Man's reason bars The bans which God allowed. -- Ay, so we think: Forgetting, thou hadst weaker been, full blest, Than thus made strong by suffering; and more great In martyrdom, than throned as Caesar's mate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAVALIER TUNES: GIVE A ROUSE THEN FOR THE CLINIC by ROBERT BROWNING THE LIVING DEAD by RALPH CHAPLIN SONG OF THE BANNER AT DAY-BREAK by WALT WHITMAN COMPANIONSHIP by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD ADDRESS TO A STEAM-VESSEL by JOANNA BAILLIE |