Bacca, thy beauty all was vain, vain as the lyre that Timon drew, vain as the azure's changing blue, vain to this drought of last year's rain: because the grass of the mountain glade so soon forgot the imprint made by that young fawn whose form it knew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEFORE THE FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP FADED FADED: 21 by GERTRUDE STEIN ISN'T IT ROMANTIC by KAREN SWENSON THE BALLAD WHICH ANNE ASKEW MADE AND SANG WHEN SHE WAS IN NEWGATE by ANNE ASKEWE THE TENTH MUSE: THE PROLOGUE by ANNE BRADSTREET LOVE'S APOTHEOSIS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AN ODE IN IMITATION OF ALCAEUS by WILLIAM JONES |