There are no heathen gods to play the rogue With wandering maidens, as in olden time; Whose wild Olympian hearts were all agog To choose their victim, and inflict their crime: Thou hast been gathering flowers, a fragrant store, But no grim Dis has seiz'd thee for his bride; And though thou rovest on this houseless shore No horned Zeus betrays thee to the tide. Olympus is gone by; but thou art there, The ward of truer heavens, all pure and sweet: No lust nor guile thy lonely path shall meet: The Father's Self, Who made thee good and fair, And pours His gentle waves about thy feet, Upholds thy virgin footsteps everywhere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HERONS OF ELMWOOD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 123 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 101 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE BARD'S EXCUSE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |