ARE you bewitched? Or don't you care To stay where I may linger near ye? Am I less welcome than the air Of chill Illyria? O Cynthia, are you then so keen For him that you prefer the slow life Of shipboard? (You know whom I mean— The lying lowlife!) Can you endure the wintry snows, The ship's hard couch, and kindred trouble? I'd like to have each storm that blows In fury double! For then you'd have to stay, my pet; No ship could loose the straining tether. Yet—if you go, I hope you'll get Some dreadful weather. I shall be standing at the pier, The gentle author of these verses, Shaking my fists at you, my dear, And cussing curses. Yet, most perfidious, most untrue, You coyest of this flirty, coy age, I hope you'll have—I truly do— A lovely voyage. And I shall ask of every tar Where any one has seen or met you; North, East—I don't care where you are— Some day I'll get you! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EVE OF ST. AGNES by JOHN KEATS A FAREWELL TO AMERICA, TO MRS. S. W. by PHILLIS WHEATLEY LEXINGTON; 1775 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MY CRYSTAL BRIDE by WILLIAM EDWARD ADAMS TWELVE SONNETS: 5. GLAD SEASONS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: IBN KOLTHUM by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |