Pallas, whose chill breast bears a shield above, Pretends her mirth will be our pleasure's gage: Pallas! leave me my years of youth for love And I will shrine your worship in my age. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROSE AND THE BEE by SARA TEASDALE AUTUMN WOODS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT BACON'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIS MAN by JOHN COTTON (1640-1699) THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SIR GALAHAD by ALFRED TENNYSON AN EARNEST SUIT [TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORESAKE HIM] by THOMAS WYATT |