So looks Anthea, when in bed she lyes, Orecome, or halfe betray'd by Tiffanies: Like to a Twi-light, or that simpring Dawn, That Roses shew, when misted o're with Lawn. Twilight is yet, till that her Lawnes give way; Which done, that Dawne, turnes then to perfect day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 131 by PETRARCH THE HOUSE ON THE HILL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 84 by PHILIP SIDNEY ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION by HORACE SMITH THE TOAD by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ONE DOES NOT WHOLLY DIE by COE BOTKIN EPISTLE TO ROBERT GRAHAM OF FINTRY, REQUESTING A FAVOR by ROBERT BURNS |