Thy soul Grown delicate with satieties, Atthis. O Atthis, I long for thy lips. I long for thy narrow breasts, Thou restless, ungathered. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE MADE FOR HIS MOTHER THAT SHE MIGHTE PRAYE by FRANCOIS VILLON LOW TIDE ON GRAND-PRE by BLISS CARMAN SONNET: TO FANNY by JOHN KEATS THE TOKEN by FRANK TEMPLETON PRINCE ABRAHAM LINCOLN (1) by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD THE POET by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY ON THE BACKWARDNESS OF THE SPRING 1771 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |