ALTHOUGH beneath this grave-mound thy white bones now are lying, Surely, my huntress Lycas, the wild things dread thee still. The memory of thy worth tall Pelion keeps undying, And the looming peak of Ossa, and Cithaeron's lonely hill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF RUTLAND by BEN JONSON WINTER'S EVENING HYMN TO MY FIRE by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL AN ESSAY ON MAN by ALEXANDER POPE THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE BOTTOM DRAWER by AMELIA EDITH HUDDLESTON BARR SAD MADRIGAL, SELECTION by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |