In this mimic form of a matron in years, <br />How plainly the pencil of Denner appears! <br />The matron herself, in whose old age we see <br />Not a trace of decline, what a wonder is she! <br />No dimness of eye, and no cheek hanging low, <br />No wrinkle, or deep-furrow’d frown on the brow! <br />Her forehead indeed is here circled around <br />With locks like the ribbon with which they are bound; <br />While glossy and smooth, and as soft as the skin <br />Of a delicate peach, is the down of her chin; <br />But nothing unpleasant, or sad, or severe, <br />Or that indicates life in its winter—is here. <br />Yet all is express’d with fidelity due, <br />Nor a pimple or freckle conceal’d from the view. <br />Many fond of new sights, or who cherish a taste <br />For the labours of art, to the spectacle haste. <br />The youths all agree, that, could old age inspire <br />The passion of love, hers would kindle the fire, <br />And the matrons with pleasure confess that they see <br />Ridiculous nothing or hideous in thee. <br />The nymphs for themselves scarcely hope a decline, <br />O wonderful woman! as placid as thine. <br />Strange magic of art! which the youth can engage <br />To peruse, half enamour’d, the features of age; <br />And force from the virgin a sigh of despair, <br />That she when as old shall be equally fair! <br />How great is the glory that Denner has gain’d, <br />Since Apelles not more for his Venus obtain’d.<br /><br />William Cowper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/denner-s-old-woman/
