DAMON, thrice happy are thy lays, Which Amarillis deigns to praise, And teachest them no restless flame, But centres thy love there whence first it came! Her soul she, and her wealthy flocks, Mingles with thine; braids her bright locks Becomingly with thy brown shade, Whence the Morn is so sweetly doubtful made. Oh, may that twisted twilight's power Infuse in each successive hour Eternal calms, untainted rays! Your tresses rule her nights, and hers your days! Whilst Thyrsis his sad reed inspires With nought, but sighs and hopeless fires, Yet glad to spy from his dark cell The dawn of Joy from others night expel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN PICCADILLY by ISAAC ROSENBERG PIED BEAUTY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SANTA FILOMENA by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IMITATION OF CHAUCER by ALEXANDER POPE THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON A DREAM OF DEATH by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |