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

  • Poem: The Mother Bird

    - Walter de la Mare Through the green twilight of a hedge I peered, with cheek on the cool leaves pressed, And spied a bird upon a nest: Two eyes…

  • Poem: The moon on the one hand

    - Hilaire Belloc The moon on the one hand, the dawn on the other: The moon is my sister, the dawn is my brother. The moon on my left and the dawn…

  • Poem: as freedom is a breakfastfood

    - e.e. cummings as freedom is a breakfastfood or truth can live with right and wrong or molehills are from mountains made —long enough and…

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.