She issues radiant from her dressing-room, Like one prepared to scale an upper sphere: -- By stirring up a lower, much I fear! How deftly that oiled barber lays his bloom! That long-shanked dapper Cupid with frisked curls Can make known women torturingly fair; The gold-eyed serpent dwelling in rich hair Awakes beneath his magic whisks and twirls. His art can take the eyes from out my head, Until I see with eyes of other men; While deeper knowledge crouches in its den, And sends a spark up: -- is it true we are wed? Yea! filthiness of body is most vile, But faithlessness of heart I do hold worse. The former, it were not so great a curse To read on the steel-mirror of her smile. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ASPATIA'S SONG, FR. THE MAID'S TRAEGDY by JOHN FLETCHER THE NIGHT OF TRAFALGAR by THOMAS HARDY THE CHILDREN'S HOUR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE LOST CHILD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS THE WARM CRADLE by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA |