One silent night of late, When every creature rested, Came one unto my gate, And knocking, me molested. Who's that (said I) beats there, And troubles thus the Sleepie? Cast off (said he) all feare, And let not Locks thus keep ye. For I a Boy am, who By Moonlesse nights have swerved; And all with showrs wet through, And e'en with cold half starved. I pittifull arose, And soon a Taper lighted; And did my selfe disclose Unto the lad benighted. I saw he had a Bow, And Wings too, which did shiver; And looking down below, I spy'd he had a Quiver. I to my Chimney's shine Brought him, (as Love professes) And chaf'd his hands with mine, And dry'd his dropping Tresses: But when he felt him warm'd, Let's try this bow of ours, And string if they be harm'd, Said he, with these late showrs. Forthwith his bow he bent, And wedded string and arrow, And struck me that it went Quite through my heart and marrow. Then laughing loud, he flew Away, and thus said flying, Adieu, mine Host, Adieu, Ile leave thy heart a dying. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER'S LOVE by THOMAS BURBIDGE CINQUAIN: MOON-SHADOWS by ADELAIDE CRAPSEY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 26 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN WINTER HEAVENS by GEORGE MEREDITH LEISURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SIR JOHN FRANKLIN by GEORGE HENRY BOKER BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY TO LORD ZOUCH by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |