ARISE, come forth, but never to return To the same centre: 'tis thy virgin urn. Bury in it those thoughts which did possess Thee from thy cradle till this happiness; Which but to think upon will make thy cheek Fairer than is the morn you so much seek In beauty to outvy, and be the pride Of all that ever had the name of bride. Up, maids, and let your nimble fingers be True instruments of curiosity: Set not a pin amiss, nor let a plait Be folded in her gown, but what's in state; And when her ivory temples you would deck, Forbear your art, for Nature gives you check. There in the circuit of her radiant hair See Cupid fetter'd in a golden snare. Mark the triumphant throne, wherein the boy Installed sits to give the bridegroom joy! But when she's dress'd, and that her listing ear Is welcom'd by the bridegroom's being near, Look how she stands, and how her steadfast eye Is fix'd on him at's first discovery! Both being met, mark how their souls do strive To be in either's joy contemplative. Whose kisses raise betwixt them such a fire, That should the Phoenix see, he to expire Would shun the spicy mountain, and so take Himself between their lips a grave to make. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FREDERICKSBURG by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DOWNFALL OF POLAND [FALL OF WARSAW, 1794] by THOMAS CAMPBELL LINCOLN by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SEASHORE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A SOUL; A STUDY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI AN ANGLER'S WISH by HENRY VAN DYKE THE GRAVE OF SHELLEY by OSCAR WILDE |