WHEN bees come hither in the fair springtide, Tell them, ye nymphs and cattle-pastures chill, How on a wintry night Leucippus died While snaring scampering hares upon the hill; The hives no more shall feel his fostering skill, But the sad hollows where the flocks are fed, For very grief are sighing for him still; The neighbour of the mountain-peak is dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAIDEN QUEEN: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN LILIES: 30. THE WHOLE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) GOLD AND STEEL; THE ANSWER by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON INTERNAL FIRESIDES by MATHILDE BLIND SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 31 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONNETS ON EMINENT CHARACTERS: 10. TO ROBERT SOUTHEY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE |