PRISCILLA is a maid devout In this repentant season, And to the world and all its ways Has vowed a pious treason. Sweet little saint, so shy, demure! -- Though long I've tried to win her I fear that I'm not in it with Some other lucky sinner. For when I begged she'd trust her heart To me, and o'er her bent, She blushed and softly murmured, "How can I when it's Lent." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODES I, 9. TO WINTER by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS WOULD I KNEW! by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE WINDS by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES LINES ON LEAVING A SCENE IN BAVARIA by THOMAS CAMPBELL FRAGMENT (3) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE PRAISE-GOD BAREBONES by ELLEN MACKAY HUTCHINSON CORTISSOZ THE THIRTY FOURTH CHAPTER OF THE PROPHET ISAIAH by ABRAHAM COWLEY TO THE BISHOP OF LINCOLN, ON .. ENLARGEMENT OUT OF THE TOWER by ABRAHAM COWLEY |