To Lucasta. Her Reserved Looks.
Poem by Richard Lovelace
LUCASTA, frown, and let me die,
But smile, and see, I live;
The sad indifference of your eye
Both kills and doth reprieve.
You hide our fate within its screen;
We feel our judgment, ere we hear.
So in one picture I have seen
An angel here, the devil there.
Comments about To Lucasta. Her Reserved Looks. by Richard Lovelace
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.