JULIA, young wanton, flung the gather'd snow, Nor fear'd I burning from the wat'ry blow: 'Tis cold, I cry'd, but ah! too soon I found, Sent by that hand it dealt a scorching wound. Resistless fair! we fly thy power in vain, Who turn'st to fiery darts the frozen rain; Burn, Julia, burn like me, and that desire With water which thou kindlest, quench with fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE MAD WOMAN'S SON by KAREN SWENSON THEOLOGY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS by FRANCIS HOPKINSON SONNET: THE EVENING STAR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IN EMULATION OF MR. COWLEYS POEM CALL'D THE MOTTO by MARY ASTELL PSALM 129 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PSALM 67 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |