We are compleat; and fate hath now No greater blessing to bestow: Nay, the dull World must now confess We have all worth, all happiness. Annalls of State are triffles to our fame, Now 'tis made sacred by Lucasia's name. But as though through a burning glasse The sun more vigorous doth passe, It still with generall freedom shines; For that contracts, but not confines: So though by this her beams are fixed here, Yet she diffuses glorys every where. Her mind is so entirely bright, The splendour would but wound our sight, And must to some disguise submit, Or we could never worship it. And we by this relation are allow'd Lustre enough to be Lucasia's cloud. Nations will own us now to be A Temple of divinity; And Pilgrims shall Ten ages hence Approach our Tombs with reverence. May then that time, which did such blisse convey, Be kept with us perpetuall Holy day! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LITTLE MILLINER by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN SONNET: 13. OUT OF CATALLUS by GAIUS VALERIUS CATULLUS A DAY DREAM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE MOURNING GARMENT: THE DESCRIPTION OF THE SHEPHERD AND HIS WIFE by ROBERT GREENE A BABY ASLEEP AFTER PAIN by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE ANTONY AND [OR, TO] CLEOPATRA by WILLIAM HAINES LYTLE |