THE shape alone let others prize, The features of the fair: I look for spirit in her eyes, And meaning in her air. A damask cheek, an ivory arm, Shall ne'er my wishes win: Give me an animated form, That speaks a mind within. A face where awful honor shines, Where sense and sweetness move, And angel innocence refines The tenderness of love. These are the soul of beauty's frame; Without whose vital aid Unfinished all her features seem, And all her roses dead. But ah! where both their charms unite, How perfect is the view, With every image of delight, With graces ever new: Of power to charm the greatest woe, The wildest rage control, Diffusing mildness o'er the brow, And rapture through the soul. Their power but faintly to express All language must despair; But go, behold Arpasia's face, And read it perfect there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW FLUTE-PRIEST SONG FOR RAIN; CEREMONIAL AT THE SUN SPRING by AMY LOWELL THE DECISION (APRIL 14, 1861) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE STORY OF THE ASHES AND THE FLAME by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON OF ANY OLD MAN by ISAAC ROSENBERG |