Sonnet IX But how could her marble skin be so soft? From gentle rock she was chipped, a model Imitating Aphrodite aloft. She was wrapped in stubborn cotton swaddle That clothed her perfect form from prying eyes That ogle, round and sweet, her perfect lie. She's carved by iron tools to fantasise Her wild dimensions made to satisfy. This model woman, ideal and flawless, Imagined in resolute high command From counterpoint across her unreal solace Infinite, sublime as her subtle hand. This noble dame resists the vexing past In solid scorn, remaining to the last.
Rene Descartes, French philosopher, mathematician and scientist, was born today in 1596.
Andrew Marvell, English metaphysical poet, was born today in 1621.
Johann Sebastian Bach, German composed, was born today 1685.