PHYLLIDA, that loved to dream In the grove or by the stream, Sighed on velvet pillow. What, alas! should fill her head, But a fountain, or a mead, Water and a willow? 'Love in cities never dwells, He delights in rural cells Whichsweet woodbinecovers. What are your assemblies then? There, 'tis true, we see more men; But much fewer lovers. 'Oh, how changed the prospect grows! Flocks and herds to fops and beaux, Coxcombs without number! Moon and stars that shone so bright, To the torch and waxen light, And whole nights at ombre. 'Pleasant as it is, to hear Scandal tickling in our ear, Even of our own mothers; In the chit-chat of the day, To us is paid, when we're away, What we lent to others. 'Though the favourite toast I reign, Wine, they say, that prompts the vain, Heightens defamation. Must I live 'twixt spite and fear, Every day grow handsomer, And lose my reputation?' Thus the fair to sighs gave way, Her empty purse beside her lay. Nymph, ah! cease thy sorrow. Though curst fortune frown to-night, This odious town can give delight, If you win to-morrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 18 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE FOOL AND THE POET by ALEXANDER POPE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 98 by PHILIP SIDNEY QUATRAIN: THE IRON AGE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO TWO BEREAVED by THOMAS ASHE THE BUTTERFLY by MARGARET AVISON SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 6. LOVE'S DESPAIR by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |