What's this of death, from you who never will die?
Think you the wrist that fashioned you in clay,
The thumb that set the hollow just that way
In your full throat and lidded the long eye
So roundly from the forehead, will let lie
Throughout the poem, God, or maybe Nature, is portrayed as a sculptor who views the poet’s lover as his masterpiece .
Whats this of death from you who never will die?