AS on a summer's day In the greenwood shade I lay, The maid that I loved, As her fancy moved, Came walking forth that way. And as she passed by With a scornful glance of her eye, What a shame, quoth she, For a swain must it be, Like a lazy loon for to die! And dost thou nothing heed, What Pan our God has decreed; What a prize to-day Shall be given away, To the sweetest shepherd's reed? There's not a single swain Of all this fruitful plain, But with hopes and fears Now busily prepares The bonny boon to gain. Shall another maiden shine In brighter array than thine? Up, up, dull swain Tune thy pipe once again, And make the garland mine. Alas! my love, he cried, What avails this courtly pride? Since thy dear desert Is written in my heart, What is all the world beside? To me thou art more gay In this homely russet gray, Than the nymphs of our green, So trim and so sheen, Or the brightest queen of May. What though my fortune frown, And deny thee a silken gown; My own dear maid, Be content with this shade And a shepherd all thy own. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GLOTTO'S TOWER by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO A YOUNG LADY; WHO ... REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN COUNTRY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH VICISSITUDES by GAMALIEL BRADFORD MY MAGGIE'S NO MORE by JOHN BROWN (1810-1882) |