Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BEAUTY AND HER VISITORS, by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: I looked for beauty:-on a throne Last Line: He shall not hurt you; -- sit to lawrence.' Subject(s): Beauty | ||||||||
I looked for Beauty: -- on a throne, A dazzling throne of light, I found her; And music poured its softest tone, And flowers their sweetest breath, around her. A score or two of idle gods, Some dressed as Peers, and some as Peasants, Were watching all her smiles and nods, And making compliments, and presents. And first young Love, the rosy boy, Exhibited his bow and arrows, And gave her many a pretty toy, Torches, and bleeding hearts, and sparrows: She told him, as he passed, she knew Her court would scarcely do without him; But yet -- she hoped they were not true -- There were some awkward tales about him. Wealth deemed that magic had no charm More mighty than the gifts he brought her, And linked around her radiant arm Bright diamonds of the purest water: The Goddess, with a scornful touch, Unclasped the gaudy, galling fetter; And said, -- she thanked him very much, -- She liked a wreath of roses better. Then Genius snatched his golden lute, And told a tale of love and glory; The crowd around were hushed and mute, To hear so sad and sweet a story: And Beauty marked the minstrel's cheek, So very pale -- no bust was paler; -- Vowed she could listen for a week; But really -- he should change his tailor! As died the echo of the strings, A shadowy Phantom kneeled before her, Looked all unutterable things, And swore to see was to adore her: He called her veil a cruel cloud, Her cheek a rose, her smile a battery; She fancied it was Wit that bowed, -- I'm almost certain it was Flattery. There was a Beldame finding fault With every person's every feature, And by the sneer, and by the halt, I knew at once the odious creature; 'You see,' quoth Envy, 'I am come To bow -- as is my bounden duty; -- They tell me Beauty is at Home; -- Impossible! that can't be Beauty!' I heard a murmur far and wide Of -- 'Lord! how quick the dotard passes!' As Time threw down at Beauty's side The prettiest of his clocks and glasses: But it was noticed in the throng, How Beauty marred the maker's cunning; For, when she talked, the hands went wrong, And, when she smiled, the sands stopped running. Death, in a Doctor's wig and gown, Came, arm in arm with Lethe, thither, And crowned her with a withered crown, And hinted, Beauty too must wither! 'Avaunt!' she cried; 'how came he here? The frightful fiend -- he's my abhorrence!' -- I went and whispered in her ear, 'He shall not hurt you; -- sit to Lawrence.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 14 by CONRAD AIKEN DIVINELY SUPERFLUOUS BEAUTY by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE BEAUTY OF THINGS by ROBINSON JEFFERS HOPE IS NOT FOR THE WISE by ROBINSON JEFFERS LIFE FROM THE LIFELESS by ROBINSON JEFFERS REARMAMENT by ROBINSON JEFFERS SHANE ONEILLS CAIRN by ROBINSON JEFFERS GOOD-NIGHT TO THE SEASON by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED SCHOOL AND SCHOOLFELLOWS; FLOREAT ETONA by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED |
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