The rosy hills of her high breasts,
Whereon, like misty morning, rests
The breathing lace; her auburn hair,
Wherein, a star point sparkling there,
One jewel burns; her eyes, that keep
Recorded dreams of song and sleep;
Her mouth, with whose comparison
The richest rose were poor and wan;
Her throat, her form - what masterpiece
Of man can picture half of these!
She comes! a classic from the hand
Of God! wherethrough I understand
What Nature means and Art and Love,
And all the lovely Myths thereof.
At Twenty-one
Madison Julius Cawein
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Poem topics: god, hair, nature, poor, rose, sleep, song, star, mouth, morning, classic, understand, picture, jewel, high, point, throat, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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