[ConorMacNessa]

You Meaner Beauties of the Night
By Sir Henry Wotton

You meaner beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfy our eyes
More by your number than your light;
You common people of the skies,
What are you when the sun shall rise?

You curious chanters of the wood,
That warble forth Dame Nature’s lays,
Thinking your voices understood
By your weak accents; what’s your praise
When Philomel her voice shall raise?

You violets that first appear,
By your pure purple mantles known,
Like the proud virgins of the year,
As if the spring were all your own;
What are you when the rose is blown?

So, when my mistress shall be seen
In form and beauty of her mind,
By virtue first, then choice, a queen,
Tell me, if she were not design’d
Th’ eclipse and glory of her kind?

[GodBlessUSA]

Hi Conor! :)
How are you? Thanks for the poetry. I enjoyed reading them both.

[JustAmy]

Good evening, Conor. Nice to see you here today.

Sorry I was away all day. Thank you for sharing these poems with us. I enjoy them.