Misjudged, misread, mistrusted, unappeased, A virgin, proud and cold; Lovelier than he whom the fond Cyprian seized And could not hold; He moves amid our throng, sits at our board, Eats, drinks, and wounds us all; The Incarnate Writing of the Invisible Lord On our Belshazzar's wall. He loathes us. His contempt none can assuage. Yet is he maddening-fair! He mocks our passion, as he scorns our rage. His air is not our air. Our glory and our pride he turns to shame With his cold virgin eyes. Up! Let us drive him from us whence he came; And stripped of his disguise! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANDREA DEL SARTO (CALLED THE FAULTLESS PAINTER) by ROBERT BROWNING THE NONSENSE SAW OF A SAW-GIRL I SAW IN ARKANSAW by FRED W. ALLSOPP THE PASQUE FLOWER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH THE BABES IN THE WOOD; OR, THE NORFOLK TRAGEDY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM AN EPISTLE THROWN INTO A RIVER IN A BALL OF WAX by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: DANIEL BARTOLI by ROBERT BROWNING |