WHEN Lupus has wrought hard all day, And the declining Sun, By stooping to embrace the sea, Tells him the Day's nigh done; Then to his young wife home he hies With his sore labour sped, Who bids him welcome home, and cries, Pray, Husband, come to bed. Thanks, Wife, quoth he, but I were blest, Would'st thou once call me to my rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN by THOMAS HARDY VERLAINE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON BEDOUIN [LOVE] SONG by BAYARD TAYLOR THE MAGI by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PRAYER FOR A CITY CHILD by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH AN ELECTIVE COURSE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |