Poem by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

Sonnet. VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire

VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire,
Thou wer't a wonder past compare:
But frozen Love and fierce disdain
By their extremes thy graces stain.
Cold coyness quenches the still fires
Which glow in Lovers warm desires;
And scorn, like the quick Lightnings blaze,
Darts death against affections gaze.
O Heavens, what prodigy is this
When Love in Beauty buried is!
Or that dead pity thus should be
Tomb'd in a living cruelty.

1. Upon a Braid of Hair in a Heart sent by Mrs. E. H.
2. On the Earl of Essex
3. Psalm I
4. The Forfeiture
5. Sonnet. Dry those fair, those chrystal eyes

Print

1930 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version