HENCE, vain intruder, haste away! Wash not with thy unhallow'd brine The footsteps of my Celia's shrine; Nor on her purer altars lay Thy empty words, accents that may Some looser dame to love incline: She must have offerings more divine; Such pearly drops as youthful May Scatters before the rising day; Such smooth soft language, as each line Might stroke an angry god, or stay Jove's thunder, make the hearers pine With envy: do this, thou shalt be Servant to her, rival with me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF CHICKAMAUGA [SEPTEMBER 19-20, 1863] by JAMES MAURICE THOMPSON RETURNED FROM THE WAR by HENRY ABBEY BOTHWELL: PART 6 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN TO ENGLAND (2) by GEORGE HENRY BOKER SOUNDS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |