SINCE truth ha' left the shepherd's tongue, Adieu the cheerful pipe and song; Adieu the dance at closing day. And, ah, the happy morn of May. How oft he told me I was fair. And wove the garland for my hair; How oft for Marian stripped the bower, To fill my lap with every flower! No more his gifts of guile I'll wear, But from my brow the chaplet tear; The crook he gave in pieces break, And rend his ribbons from my neek. How oft he vowed a constant flame, And carved on every oak my name! Blush, Colin, that the wounded tree Is all that will remember me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE GO THE BOATS? by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WINTER SLEEP by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH DELIA. AN ELEGY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE SPINNER by CLARA DOTY BATES WATER TOWER AT WALDO by DAISY MARITA BISHOP THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 42. FAREWELL TO JULIET (4) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ST. BEE'S HEAD by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN ON STIRLING; SEEING THE ROYAL PALACE IN RUIN by ROBERT BURNS |