Poem by John Hamilton Reynolds

* * *

Sweet poets of the gentle antique line,
That made the hue of beauty all eterne;
And gave earth's melodies a silver turn, --
Where did you steal your art so right divine? --
Sweetly ye memoried every golden twine
Of your ladies' tresses: -- teach me how to spurn
Death's lone decaying and oblivion stern
From the sweet forehead of a lady mine.

The golden clusters of enamouring hair
Glow'd in poetic pictures sweetly well; --
Why should not tresses dusk, that are so fair
On the live brow, have an eternal spell
In poesy? -- dark eyes are dearer far
Than orbs that mock the hyacinthine-bell.

1. To Spenser
2. Sonnet 2. On Robin Hood
3. Sonnet 1. On Robin Hood
4. Sonnet 3. On Robin Hood
5. On the Picture of a Lady

Print

2054 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version