Sweet smile, the daughter of the Queene of Love, Expressing all thy mothers powrefull art, With which she wonts to temper angry Jove, When all the gods he threats with thundring dart: Sweet is thy vertue, as thy selfe sweet art. For when on me thou shinedst late in sadnesse, A melting pleasance ran through every part, And me revived with hart robbing gladnesse: Whylest rapt with joy resembling heavenly madnes, My soule was ravisht quite, as in a traunce, And feeling thence no more her sorowes sadnesse, Fed on the fulnesse of that chearefull glaunce. More sweet than nectar, or ambrosiall meat, Seem'd every bit which thenceforth I did eat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARRIAGE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE SPIDER AND THE FLY by MARY HOWITT SONNET: 67 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WHAT TOMAS AN BUILE SAID IN A PUB by JAMES STEPHENS CARELESS LINES ON LABOUR by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IF I ONLY WAS THE FELLOW by WILL S. ADKIN |