I dote the more, the more I contemplate This peerless canvas, and my yearning heart In love's delirium from it doth await The speech and kisses of its counterpart, Whereon I run to gather her to me ; Alas, she doth not speak, but her glance strays Gladly towards me: "Dearest father, see How beautiful 1 am! " methinks it says. "Daughter," I answer, "sweet serenity Thy happy image showeth, worthless prove All canvases by this supremely best ; But fairer still thou dost appear to me And to me only in the shape that Love Hath graven in thy tender father's breast." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST AGAINST THE REST OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN SMALL COUNTRIES by JAMES GALVIN DESPAIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A MENDOCINO MEMORY by EDWIN MARKHAM SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JONAS KEENE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |