How sweet I roam'd from field to field, And tasted all the summer's pride, 'Till I the prince of love beheld, Who in the sunny beams did glide! He shew'd me lilies for my hair, And blushing roses for my brow; He led me through his gardens fair, Where all his golden pleasures grow. With sweet May dews my wings were wet. And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage; He caught me in his silken net, And shut me in his golden cage. He loves to sit and hear me sing, Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; Then stretches out my golden wing, And mocks my loss of liberty. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEFORE THE BIRTH OF ONE OF HER CHILDREN by ANNE BRADSTREET ON THE DEATH OF MRS. (NOW LADY) THROCKMORTON'S BULLFINCH by WILLIAM COWPER A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 40 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE OWL (1) by ALFRED TENNYSON THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, SELECTION by ANEIRIN THE JEWISH MARTYRS by W. V. B. ARTHUR AND ALBINA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |