REST thee, desire, gaze not at such a star; Sweet fancy, sleep; love, take a nap awhile; My busy thoughts that reach and roam so far, With pleasant dreams the length of time beguile; Fair Venus, cool my over-heated breast, And let my fancy take her wonted rest. Cupid abroad was lated in the night, His wings were wet with ranging in the rain; Harbour he sought, to me he took his flight, To dry his plumes: I heard the boy complain; My door I op'd, to grant him his desire, And rose myself to make the wag a fire. Looking more narrow by the fire's flame, I spied his quiver hanging at his back: I fear'd the child might my misfortune frame, I would have gone for fear of further wrack; And what I drad (poor man) did me betide, For forth he drew an arrow from his side. He pierc'd the quick, that I began to start; The wound was sweet, but that it was too high, And yet the pleasure had a pleasing smart: This done, he flies away, his wings were dry; But left his arrow still within my breast, That now I grieve I welcom'd such a guest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HERE LIES A LADY by JOHN CROWE RANSOM WAR AND WASHINGTON by JONATHAN MITCHELL SEWALL SONG OF THE BANNER AT DAY-BREAK by WALT WHITMAN TILL THE MIST PASSES by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON ASPIRATIONS: 9 by MATHILDE BLIND THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: KING LIMOS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |