BE to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be; Take her head upon your knee. She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free, She that had no need of me, Is a little lonely child Lost in Hell, -- Persephone, Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, "My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY NOVEMBER GUEST by ROBERT FROST A CANADIAN BOAT SONG; WRITTEN ON THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE by THOMAS MOORE TO A DISTANT FRIEND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE RACING CARS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET AN AEOLIAN HARP by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY THE SALLE MONTESQUIEU; A PARISIAN REMINISCENCE by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |