When curious Pandora, luckless lass, Brought all our pains to pass, Releasing from that Box those winged foes, The Troubles and all Woes, They flew about on impish mischief bent, And everywhere they went, Until at last, grown homesick, they would find The Box for them designed; And, lighting on a hollow human head, They made it serve instead. Thus, ever since, when skulls begin to throb, 'Tis that unholy mob Bold-beating on our heads with silent din, Intent to be let in; And in at last with stamping feet they come To make our heads their home. Oh, could I find Pandora's lock and key Before they come to me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHY I AM A LIBERAL by ROBERT BROWNING CAVALRY CROSSING A FORD by WALT WHITMAN OF BENEVOLENCE: AN EPISTLE TO EUMENES by JOHN ARMSTRONG LILIES: 10. SOUL-PAIN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) A MORNING PIECE; WRITTEN IN ABSENCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |