NAY, tell me now in what strange air The Roman Flora dwells to-day; Where Archippiada hides, and where Beautiful Thais has passed away? Whence answers Echo, afield, astray, By mere or stream,—around, below? Lovelier she than a woman of clay; Nay, but where is the last year's snow? Where is wise Héloise, that care Brought on Abeilard, and dismay? All for her love he found a snare, A maimed poor monk in orders grey; And where's the Queen who willed to slay Buridan, that in a sack must go Afloat down Seine,—a perilous way— Nay, but where is the last year's snow? Where's that White Queen, a lily rare, With her sweet song, the Siren's lay? Where's Bertha Broad-foot, Beatrice fair? Alys and Ermengarde, where are they? Good Joan, whom English did betray In Rouen town, and burned her? No, Maiden and Queen, no man may say; Nay, but where is the last year's snow? ENVOY Prince, all this week thou need'st not pray, Nor yet this year the thing to know. One burden answers, ever and aye, "Nay, but where is the last year's snow?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARABIAN SHAWL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE RAIN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET: 129 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 27 by ALFRED TENNYSON EUROPE; THE 72ND AND 73RD YEARS OF THESE STATES by WALT WHITMAN THE SOBBING OF THE BELLS (MIDNIGHT, SEPT. 19-20, 1881) by WALT WHITMAN |