HAD I a man's fair form, then might my sighs Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well Would passion arm me for the enterprize: But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies; No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell; I am no happy shepherd of the dell Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes. Yet must I doat upon thee, -- call thee sweet, Sweeter by far than Hybla's honied roses When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication. Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet, And when the moon her pallid face discloses, I'll gather some by spells, and incantation. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IMMORTALITY by EMILY DICKINSON MY SISTER'S SLEEP by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES TO THE COUNTESS OF ANGLESEY UPON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND by THOMAS CAREW THE LAKE AT ZURICH by JAMES COCHRANE |