You The Object Of My Art - Poem by David McLansky
You, the object of my art,
Laugh at praise from out my heart;
Call me crazy, a fool obsessed
When I tell you how, with you, I'm blessed.
My love, herself, thus does disprize
The beauty I hold in my eyes;
The aching wonder that I feel
Is painted common, called unreal.
By artless grace, you tantalize,
To so disgrace that which I prize;
You augment as you mesmerize
The beauty that your lips deny
Comments about You The Object Of My Art by David McLansky
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye