COME with me to Lethe-lake, Come, since Love is o'er, He whose thirst those waters slake, Thirsteth nevermore. There the sleepy hemlock grows In the night-shade ranks, Crimson poppies rows on rows Flush its quiet banks. Drink with me of Lethe-lake Deep and deeper yet, Drink with me for dead Love's sake Drink till we forget. Since our roses all are dead, Lost our laurel-boughs, Let these poppies hang instead Round our aching brows. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A FRIEND by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by THOMAS CAREW THE SCARECROW by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE PROBLEM by RALPH WALDO EMERSON LOUISA MAY ALCOTT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW-ENGLAND by PHILLIS WHEATLEY |