My Lady unto Madam makes her bow. The charm of women is, that even while You’re probed by them for tears you yet may smile, Nay, laugh outright, as I have done just now. The interview was gracious: they anoint (To me aside) each other with fine praise: Discriminating compliments they raise, That hit with wondrous aim on the weak point: My Lady’s nose of Nature might complain. It is not fashioned aptly to express Her character of large-browed steadfastness. But Madam says: ‘Thereof she may be vain!’ Now Madam’s faulty feature is a glazed And inaccessible eye, that has soft fires, Wide gates, at love-time only. This admires My Lady. At the two I stand amazed.
This poem is in the public domain.