How Thought You That This Thing Could Captivate?


How thought you that this thing could captivate?
What are those graces that could make her dear,
Who is not worth the notice of a sneer,
To rouse the vapid devil of her hate?
A speech conventional, so void of weight,
That after it has buzzed about one's ear,
'Twere rich refreshment for a week to hear
The dentist babble or the barber prate;

A hand displayed with many a little art;
An eye that glances on her neighbor's dress;
A foot too often shown for my regard;
An angel's form -- a waiting-woman's heart;
A perfect-featured face, expressionless,
Insipid, as the Queen upon a card. 


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Return to the Alfred Lord Tennyson Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Idylls Of The King: Song From The Marriage Of Geraint

It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.