Women in Poetry

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Women in Poetry "She Is Not Fair to Outward View" She is not fair to outward view, As many maidens be; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me: O, then I saw her eye was bright.- A well of love, a spring of light. But now her looks are coy and cold; To mine they ne’er reply; And yet I cease not to behold The love light in her eyes: Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are! "She Is Not Fair to Outward View" by Hartley Coleridge She is not fair to outward view, Line 1: Her visage is not pleasant for external perception. As many maidens be; Line 2: As unmarried women are; Her loveliness I never knew Line 3: Having beauty that appeals to the emotions as well as the eyes I never grasped. Until she smiled on me: Line4: Up to the time where she showed a pleasant disposition to me. O, then I saw her eye was bright.- Line 5: Then I perceived her radiant organ of vision. A well of love, a spring of light. Line 6: A deep hole filled with deep, tender emotion and a shower of illunation. But now her are coy and cold; Line 7: However she appears to be shy and unaffectionate. To mine they ne’er reply; Line 8: To me they never respond. And yet I cease not to behold Line 9: Still I would not stop looking upon The love light in her eyes: Line10: The bright emotion in her organ of vision. Her very frowns are fairer far Line11: Her displeasure is still pleasant Than smiles of other maidens are! Line 12: Than the pleasant facial expressions of other unmarried women. Summary: The poem is about an young unmarried woman, who does not have outwardly beauty. Although if you looked at her, you would notice a warm and invitng smile. You would also notice her bright and pleasant eyes. The young women’s eyes and smile filled the man with love. However, she was not filled with love for him. There was no love for him in her eyes, yet the man did not stop looking at her. He thinks that even when she is sad or frowning she is still beautiful. Her smile is the prettiest out of all the other young women. To My Mother by Edgar Allen Poe Because I feel that, in Heaven above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of "Mother," Therefore by that dear name I long have called

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