1 WHY, lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow With the dread semblance of that warlike helm; That nodding plume, and wreath of various glow, That graced the chiefs of Scotia's ancient realm? 2 Thou know'st that Virtue is of power the source, And all her magic to thy eyes is given; We own their empire, while we feel their force, Beaming with the benignity of heaven. 3 The plumy helmet and the martial mien Might dignify Minerva's awful charms; But more resistless far the Idalian queen -- Smiles, graces, gentleness, her only arms. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN LOVE IN TWILIGHT by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN A BIT OF SKY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A PARADOX by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON AFTERGLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |