Her beauty was upon me. That alone Might well have tortured reason from its place: To look upon that living Titian face, And the fair Milo's form not now in stone, And pass . . . when, though but for a little space, In my young manhood they might be my own! To look . . . and pass. I looked . . . and could not pass. And unto pity for a human lot Came that great pity Beauty had begot (The old Vergilian truth) . . . My memory has, Strangely, half lost her beauty; but there be Some in the town, less close to her sweet ways, Who still remark how beautiful was she, As of some great event of other days. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TOURNAMENT by SIDNEY LANIER MISSIONARY HYMN by REGINALD HEBER TO ELECTRA (1) by ROBERT HERRICK THE YOUNG HOUSEWIFE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS SILVER ANNIVERSARY by BEULAH ALLYNE BELL |