So oft as I her beauty doe behold, And therewith doe her cruelty compare, I marvaile of what substance was the mould The which her made attonce so cruell faire. Not earth; for her high thoghts more heavenly are: Not water; for her love doth burne like fyre: Not ayre; for she is not so light or rare: Not fyre; for she doth friese with faint desire. Then needs another element inquire, Whereof she mote be made; that is the skye. For to the heaven her haughty looks aspire, And eke her mind is pure immortall hye. Then sith to heaven ye lykened are the best, Be lyke in mercy as in all the rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ILLINOIS FARMER by CARL SANDBURG THREE SILENCES IN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON THE HERETIC: 3. MOCKERY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER HOME by LEONIDAS OF ALEXANDRIA THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW FAREWELL TO THE FARM by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |