Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late, And studying all the summer night, Her matchless songs does meditate. Ye country comets, that portend No war nor prince's funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the grass's fall; Ye glowworms, whose officious flame To wandering mowers shows the way, That in the night have lost their aim, And after foolish fires do stray; Your courteous lights in vain you waste, Since Juliana here is come, For she may mind hath so displaced That I shall never find my home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JONES'S PRIVATE ARGYMENT by SIDNEY LANIER THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM COWPER BETWEEN THE LINES by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON THE IRISH SPINNING-WHEEL by ALFRED PERCEVAL GRAVES SWITZERLAND by JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES ODES I, 38. AD MINISTRAM by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON [APRIL 6, 1862] by KATE BROWNLEE SHERWOOD STOOD AT CLEAR by ALEXANDER ANDERSON EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 17. THE DIFFICULT ADVENTURE by PHILIP AYRES |