YE little loves that round her wait, To bring me tidings of my fate, As Celia on her pillow lies, Ah! gently whisper, "Strephon dies." If this will not her pity move, And the proud fair disdains to love, Smile and say, "'Tis all a lie, And haughty Strephon scorns to die!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO CHLOE WHO FOR HIS SAKE WISHED HERSELF YOUNGER by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT SONG OF THE ENGINE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON GOOD NIGHT by HESTER A. BENEDICT THOU LIGHT OF LIFE by BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX MOUNT SINAI by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE DREAMING MAN by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |