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: Seeds

    - Walter de la Mare The seeds I sowed - For week unseen - Have pushed up pygmy Shoots of green; So frail you'd think The tiniest stone Would…

  • Poem: Cats and Dogs

    - W.H. Auden DOG The single creature leads a partial life, Man by his mind, and by his nose the hound; He needs the deep emotions I can give, I…

  • Poem: The Oven Bird

    - Robert Frost There is a singer everyone has heard, Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. He says…

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.