You lie who say the Gods have left the woods! See how forever, for her virginhood's Shadowy love, weeps Philomel; How Pomona makes the harvest swell With fruit beyond reason; How now as of old the Months parade Through the orchard sun and shade Each in its season. Boor with the ass's ear, Intruder on the woodland sports! Tell if the herdsman in vain exhorts Lucina for the ewe lambs of the year! If Pan less fervent summons fair Syrinx. Tell if my lip of red By the Muses featly led Of the simple, eloquent fountain-head Still drinks. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 39 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE USE OF FLOWERS by MARY HOWITT OUR LADY'S LULLABY by RICHARD ROWLANDS THE MERRIMAC by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MAN'S INHUMANITY TO MAN by ALBERT LINDLEY BEANE MUCH LOVE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE DAWN PATROL by PAUL BEWSHER THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 45. FAREWELL TO JULIET (7) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |