The laurel leafe which you this day doe weare Gives me great hope of your relenting mynd: For since it is the badg which I doe beare, Ye, bearing it, doe seeme to me inclind. The powre thereof, which ofte in me I find, Let it lykewise your gentle brest inspire With sweet infusion, and put you in mind Of that proud mayd whom now those leaves attyre. Proud Daphne, scorning Phoebus lovely fyre, On the Thessalian shore from him did flie: For which the gods, in theyr revengefull yre, Did her transforme into a laurell tree. Then fly no more, fayre love, from Phebus chace, But in your brest his leafe and love embrace. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DESIRE OF NATIONS by EDWIN MARKHAM SONNET TO THE AUTUMNAL MOON by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ON LORD HOLLAND'S SEAT NEAR MARGATE, KENT by THOMAS GRAY THE LATTER DAY by THOMAS HASTINGS ON A FLY DRINKING FROM HIS CUP by WILLIAM OLDYS THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN A BALLADE OF OTHER IDOLS by LEONARD BACON (1887-1954) |