T' OTHER day, as I was twining Roses for a crown to dine in, What, of all things, midst the heap, Should I light on, fast asleep, But the little desperate elf, The tiny traitor, -- Love himself! By the wings I pinched him up Like a bee, and in a cup Of my wine I plunged and sank him; And what d'ye think I did? -- I drank him! Faith, I thought him dead. Not he! There he lives with tenfold glee; And now this moment, with his wings I feel him tickling my heart-strings. (Paraphrase from the Greek by Leigh Hunt.) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEMPEST: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN BROTHER AND SISTER by MARY ANN EVANS MEN WHO MARCH AWAY' (SONG OF THE SOLDIERS) by THOMAS HARDY A THOUGHT IN TWO MOODS by THOMAS HARDY TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING by ROBERT HERRICK THEOCRITUS; A VILLANELLE by OSCAR WILDE ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 17. ON A SERMON AGAINST GLORY by MARK AKENSIDE |