Classic and Contemporary Poetry
I DOTE THE MORE, THE MORE I CONTEMPLATE, by VINCENZO MONTI Poet's Biography Last Line: Hath graven in thy tender father's breast Subject(s): Fathers & Daughters; Beauty | ||||||||
I dote the more, the more I contemplate This peerless canvas, and my yearning heart In love's delirium from it doth await The speech and kisses of its counterpart, Whereon I run to gather her to me ; Alas, she doth not speak, but her glance strays Gladly towards me: "Dearest father, see How beautiful 1 am! " methinks it says. "Daughter," I answer, "sweet serenity Thy happy image showeth, worthless prove All canvases by this supremely best ; But fairer still thou dost appear to me And to me only in the shape that Love Hath graven in thy tender father's breast." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VARIATIONS: 14 by CONRAD AIKEN DIVINELY SUPERFLUOUS BEAUTY by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE BEAUTY OF THINGS by ROBINSON JEFFERS HOPE IS NOT FOR THE WISE by ROBINSON JEFFERS LIFE FROM THE LIFELESS by ROBINSON JEFFERS REARMAMENT by ROBINSON JEFFERS SHANE ONEILLS CAIRN by ROBINSON JEFFERS A COWARD THOUGHT ADMONISHETH: BEHOLD by VINCENZO MONTI O SERVER OF VAIN POMP WHOSE EVERY DAY by VINCENZO MONTI WHAT ART THOU, DEATH? THE VILE AND GUILTY FEAR by VINCENZO MONTI |
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