I BROUGHT in these to make her kitchen sweet, Haw blossoms and the roses of the lane. Her heart seemed in her eyes so wild they beat With welcome for the boughs of Spring again. She never heard of Babylon or Troy, She read no book, but once saw Dublin town; Yet she made a poet of her servant boy And from Parnassus earned the laurel crown. If Fame, the Gorgon, turns me into stone Upon some city square, let someone place Thorn blossoms and lane roses newly blown Beside my feet, and underneath them trace: "His heart was like a bookful of girls' song, With little loves and mighty Care's alloy. These did he bring his muse, and suffered long, Her bashful singer and her servant boy." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER. THE SECOND PASTORAL, OR ALEXIS by ALEXANDER POPE HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 7. 'SIENA MI FE' by EZRA POUND THE END OF IT by FRANCIS THOMPSON PEBBLES by KENNETH SLADE ALLING WHEN I WAS YOUNG by IRMA TIBBETTS ANDREWS INSTEAD OF TEARS by JOSEPH AUSLANDER |