ATTIC maid! with honey fed, Bearest thou to thy callow brood Yonder locust from the mead, Destined their delicious food? Ye have kindred voices clear, Ye alike unfold the wing, Migrate hither, sojourn here, Both attendant on the spring! Ah, for pity drop the prize; Let it not with truth be said That a songster gasps and dies That a songster may be fed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FALL OF THE YEAR by EMIL BLEMONT MISSING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE OUR ITALIAN JOURNEY by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX TRUE TO POLL by FRANCIS COWLEY BURNAND THE STANDARD BEARER by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR |