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Classic poem

To Marion

by George Gordon, Lord Byron

MARION! why that pensive brow?

What disgust to life hast thou?

Change that discontented air;

Frowns become not one so fair.

'Tis not Love disturbs thy rest,

Love's a stranger to thy breast:

_He_, in dimpling smiles, appears,

Or mourns in sweetly timid tears;

Or bends the languid eyelid down,

But _shuns_ the cold forbidding 'frown'.

Then resume thy former fire,

Some will _love_, and all admire!

While that icy aspect chills us,

Nought but cool Indiff'rence thrills us.

Would'st thou wand'ring hearts beguile,

Smile, at least, or _seem_ to _smile_;

Eyes like _thine_ were never meant

To hide their orbs in dark restraint;

Spite of all thou fain wouldst say,

Still in _truant_ beams they play.

Thy lips--but here my _modest_ Muse

Her impulse _chaste_ must needs refuse:

She _blushes, curtsies, frowns,_--in short She

Dreads lest the _Subject_ should transport me;

And flying off, in search of _Reason_,

Brings Prudence back in proper season.

_All_ I shall, therefore, say (whate'er

I think, is neither here nor there,)

Is, that such _lips_, of looks endearing,

Were form'd for _better things_ than _sneering_.

Of soothing compliments divested,

Advice at least's disinterested;

Such is my artless song to thee,

From all the flow of Flatt'ry free;

Counsel like _mine_ is as a brother's,

_My_ heart is given to some others;

That is to say, unskill'd to cozen,

It shares itself among a dozen.

Marion, adieu! oh, pr'ythee slight not

This warning, though it may delight not;

And, lest my precepts be displeasing,

To those who think remonstrance teazing,

At once I'll tell thee our opinion,

Concerning Woman's soft Dominion:

Howe'er we gaze, with admiration,

On eyes of blue or lips carnation;

Howe'er the flowing locks attract us,

Howe'er those beauties may distract us;

Still fickle, we are prone to rove,

_These_ cannot fix our souls to love;

It is not too _severe_ a stricture,

To say they form a _pretty picture_;

But would'st thou see the secret chain,

Which binds us in your humble train,

To hail you Queens of all Creation,

Know, in a _word, 'tis Animation_.

naturelovedeathbeautyhopesolitudegrieffaith
Public domain/Source

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