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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CHLORIS AND HYLAS (MADE TO A SARABAND), by EDMUND WALLER Poet Analysis Poet's Biography
First Line: Hylas, o hylas! Why sit we mute
Last Line: The oak now resembles which lightning hath blasted.
First Line: Hylas, o hylas! Why sit we mute
Last Line: The oak now resembles which lightning hath blasted.
Hylas, O Hylas! why sit we mute
Now that each Bird saluteth the Spring?
Wind up the slackned strings of thy Lute,
Never canst thou want matter to sing:
For Love their Breasts does fill with such a fire,
That whatso'er is fair, moves thy desire.
Of various flowers the Bees do compose,
Yet no particular taste it brings
Of Violet, Woodbind, Pink or Rose:
So love the result is of all the graces
Which flow from a thousand several faces.
Could we but know the Language they use,
They would instruct us better in Love,
And reprehend thy inconstant Muse:
For Love their Breasts does fill with such a fire,
That what they once do chuse, bounds their desire.
Which the warm Season hither does bring;
Time from your self does further remove
You, than the Winter from the gay Spring:
She that like lightning shin'd while her face lasted,
The Oak now resembles which lightning hath blasted.
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Other Poems of Interest...
OF THE LAST VERSES IN THE BOOK by EDMUND WALLER
OF ENGLISH VERSE by EDMUND WALLER
OF MY LADY ISABELLA PLAYING ON THE LUTE by EDMUND WALLER
ON THE FRIENDSHIP BETWIXT TWO LADIES by EDMUND WALLER
THE SELF BANISHED (2) by EDMUND WALLER
THE STORY OF PHOEBUS [OR APOLLO] AND DAPHNE APPLIED by EDMUND WALLER