How well, fair crown of your fair sex, might he, That but the twilight of your sprite did see, And noted for what flesh such souls were framed, Know you to be a Sidney, though unnamed? And, being named, how little doth that name Need any muse's praise to give it fame? Which is, itself, the imprese of the great, And glory of them all, but to repeat! Forgive me then, if mine but say you are A Sidney: but in that extend as far As loudest praisers, who perhaps would find For every part a character assigned. My praise is plain, and wheresoe'er professed, Becomes none more than you, who need it least. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINCOLN TRIUMPHANT by EDWIN MARKHAM THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER by JOHN CROWE RANSOM IN AN ARTIST'S STUDIO by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE LAMP [LAMPE] by HENRY VAUGHAN VERSES FOR A GUEST ROOM by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |