Ah Serenissa, from our arms Did you for death's preserve your charms; From us that serv'd so long in vain, Shall heav'n so soon the prize obtain? Sickness, its courtship, makes the fair As pale as her own lovers are. Sure you, the goddess we adore, Who all coelestial seem'd before, While vows and service nothing gain'd, Which, were you woman, had obtain'd; At last in pity, for our sake, Descend an human form to take, And by this sickness chuse to tell You are not now invincible. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDNIGHT-BY THE OPEN WINDOW by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND by ANDREW MARVELL CRITICS AND CONNOISSEURS by MARIANNE MOORE NEAR DOVER, SEPTEMBER 1802 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 79. AL-TAWWAB by EDWIN ARNOLD |