Say not of beauty she is good,
Or aught but beautiful,
Or sleek to doves' wings of the wood
Her wild wings of a gull.
Call her not wicked; that word's touch
Consumes her like a curse;
But love her not too much, too much,
For that is even worse.
O, she is neither good nor bad,
But innocent and wild!
Enshrine her and she dies, who had
The hard heart of a child.
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Autobiographical I'm sure. But of course it's not strictly a person but I suppose a personification of beauty. Either way it's a pleasurable read.
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Her titles and then her poems seem to be two different aspects when I read some of her work, like the last one.
Beauty, she titles this, yet to me there's no beauty in this piece, I read: heartache.
But then again the title is the poem for that is what she is talking about 'Beauty' in all Beauty's wonders, good, bad, opposite - in between.
So though I find little correlation, there is correlation however.
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