Whence came the blemish on thy face?
Did Hebe cause the stain,
Did Nature’s self her work disgrace
Lest Kitty should be vain?
No, ’twas the Priest, who, seldom wont.
To sprinkle smiles like thine,
Mistook the chalice for the font,
And christen’d thee with wine:
Or the pure element, distress’d
At Angel-looks so meek,
Thought thee another Saviour-guest,
And blush’d upon thy cheek.
So Heaven forbade with timely spot
That beauty to aspire,
Which, had it blaz’d without a blot,
Had set the world on fire.
(James Hurdis)
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Based on Topics: World Poems, Mind Poems, Sadness Poems, Faces Poems, Fire Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Wine PoemsBased on Keywords: blaz, christen