THE Nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind, No less than a wonder by nature designed She's the grief of my heart, but joy of my eye, The cause of my flame, that never can die. Her lips, from whence wit obligingly flows, Has the colour of cherries, and smell of the rose; Love and Destiny both attend on her will, She saves with a smile, with a frown she can kill. The desperate lover can hope no redress, Where beauty and rigour, are both in excess: In Celia they meet, so unhappy am I; Who sees her must love; who loves her, must die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: IMANUEL EHRENHARDT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WHEN THERE IS PEACE by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE ARMADA; A FRAGMENT by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY MAY (1) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE PHANTOM REVIEW by SQUIRE OMAR BARKER THE SCEPTIC by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |