IF he that erst the form so lively drew
Of Venus' face, triumph'd in painter's art ;
Thy Father then what glory did ensue,
By whose pencil a Goddess made thou art.
Touched with flame that figure made some rue,
And with her love surprised many a heart.
There lack'd yet that should cure their hot desire :
Thou canst inflame and quench the kindled dire.
To His Mistress
Henry Howard
(1)
Poem topics: father, heart, desire, face, flame, triumph, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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