When skilful traders first set up, To draw the people to their shop, They straight hang out some gaudy sign, Expressive of the goods within. The Vintner has his boy and grapes, The Haberdasher thread and tapes, The Shoemaker exposes boots, And Monmouth Street old tatter'd suits. So fares it with the nymph divine; For what is beauty but a sign? A face hung out, through which is seen The nature of the goods within. Thus the coquette her beau ensnares With studied smile and forward airs; The graver prude hangs out a frown To strike the audacious gazer down; But she alone whose temperate wit Each nicer medium can hit, Is still adorn'd with every grace, And wears a sample in her face. What though some envious folks have said That Stella now must hide her head, That all her stock of beauty's gone, And e'en the very sign took down; Yet grieve not at the fatal blow, For if you break awhile, we know 'T is bankrupt like, more rich to grow. A fairer sign you'll soon hang up, And with fresh credit open shop; For nature's pencil soon shall trace, And once more finish off your face: Which all your neighbours shall outshine, And of your Mind remain the sign! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE UNKNOWN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NOCTURNE OF REMEMBERED SPRING by CONRAD AIKEN ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF STERLING AND SARAH LANIER by SIDNEY LANIER |