silly

Poem: A Nasty Sonnet

How thought you that this thing could captivate?
What are those graces that could make her dear,
Who is not worth the notice of a sneer
To rouse the vapid devil of her hate?
A speech conventional, so void of weight
That after it has buzzed about one's ear,
'Twere rich refinement for a week to hear
The dentist babble or the barber prate;
A hand displayed with many a little art;
An eye that glances on her neighbour's dress;
A foot too often shown for my regard;
An angel's form--a waiting-woman's heart;
A perfect-featured face, expressionless,
Insipid, as the Queen upon a card.

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “poetry” Tag

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  • Poem: Mary and Gabriel

    Young Mary, loitering once her garden way, Felt a warm splendour grow in the April day, As wine that blushes water through. And soon, Out of the gold…

  • Poem: Song of the Mad Prince

    Who said, “Peacock Pie”? The old King to the sparrow: Who said, “Crops are ripe”? Rust to the harrow: Who said, “Where…

Either that, or she had an incredibly focused (and annoying) mother trying to get her married off...
To rouse the vapid devil of her hate, is one of the most vicious lines, but it really packs that much needed punch!
Nothing says that evil intent and vitriol are mutually exclusive to beauty and elegance, which is a little scary in and of itself.