JOVE warns us with his lightning first, Before he sends his thunder; Before the cock begins to crow, He claps his wings down under. But I, who go to see a maid, This springtime in the morning, Fall under every spell she has, Without a word of warning. She little thinks what charms her breath To cunning eyes reveal; The waves that down her body glide, That from her bosom steal. Her moth-like plumpness caught my eye, I watched it like a spider; By her own hair my web is made, To fasten me beside her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON STURMINSTER FOOT-BRIDGE by THOMAS HARDY THE PRELUDE: BOOK 1. CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL-TIME by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH RETURN by KENNETH SLADE ALLING ON BEING QUIZZED BY BALIEV by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) |