IN candent ire the solar splendor flames; The foles, languescent, pend from arid rames; His humid front the cive, anheling, wipes, And dreams of erring on ventiferous ripes. How dulce to vive occult to mortal eyes, Dorm on the herb with none to supervise, Carp the suave berries from the crescent vine, And bibe the flow from longicaudate kine! To me, alas! no verdurous visions come, Save yon exiguous pool's conferva-scum, -- No concave vast repeats the tender hue That laves my milk-jug with celestial blue! Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades! Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids! Oh, might I vole to some umbrageous clump, -- Depart, -- be off, -- excede, -- evade, -- erump! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNETS ATTEMPTED IN THE MANNER OF CONTEMPORARY WRITERS: 3 by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS by PADRAIC COLUM VENICE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 5. THE CHANGELING by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER HYMN TO THE NAIADS by MARK AKENSIDE THALIA by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |