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The glorious
portrait of that Angels face,
Made to amaze weake mens confused skill;
and this worlds worthlesse glory to embase,
what pen, what pencill can expresse her fill?
For though he colours could deuize at will,
and eke his learned hand at pleasure guide:
least trembling it his wormanship should spill,
yet many wondrous things there are beside.
The sweet eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide,
the charming smiles, that rob sence from the heart:
the louely pleasance and the lofty pride,
cannot expressed be by any art.
A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth neede,
that can expresse the life of things indeed.
by:
Edmund Spenser
A Cradle Song
The
angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.
God's laughing in Heaven
To see you so good;
The Sailing Seven
Are gay with His mood.
I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown.
Let me know what you think of my pages
Music: Angelface by The Neons
If you can't hear the music, I suggest to download:
 
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