When I behold that beauties wonderment, And rare perfection of each goodly part, Of Natures skill the onely complement, I honor and admire the Makers art. But when I feele the bitter balefull smart Which her fayre eyes unwares doe worke in mee, That death out of theyr shiny beames doe dart, I thinke that I a new Pandora see; Whom all the gods in councell did agree, Into this sinfull world from heaven to send, That she to wicked men a scourge should bee, For all their faults with which they did offend. But since ye are my scourge, I will intreat That for my faults ye will me gently beat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BLINDED BIRD by THOMAS HARDY OLD MOTHERS by CHARLES SARSFIELD ROSS OF A FAIR LADY PLAYING WITH A SNAKE by EDMUND WALLER PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 16. AL-KAHHAR by EDWIN ARNOLD HORATIAN ECHO by MATTHEW ARNOLD OUR HERITAGE by ISIDORE G. ASCHER SKY WRITING by MARY FINETTE BARBER |