LUCASTA wept, and still the bright Enamour'd God of Day, With his soft handkercher of light, Kiss'd the wet pearls away. But when her tears his heat o'ercame, In clouds he quench'd his beams, And griev'd, wept out his eye of flame, So drowned her sad streams. At this she smil'd, when straight the sun Clear'd with her kind desires, And by her eyes' reflection Kindled again his fires. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FAIREST THING IN MORTAL EYES by CHARLES D'ORLEANS THE SELF-UNSEEING by THOMAS HARDY MADONNA OF THE EVENING FLOWERS by AMY LOWELL CHORUS OF THE CLOUD-MAIDEN: ANTISTROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES CHRIST THE CONQUEROR by HENRY FOSTER BURDER IN SLEEP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |