The Emperor Octavian, called the August, I being his favorite, bestowed his name Upon me, and I hold it still in trust, In memory of him and of his fame. I am the Virgin, and my vestal flame Burns less intensely than the Lion's rage; Sheaves are my only garlands, and I claim The golden Harvests as my heritage. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A YOUNG ASS; ITS MOTHER BEING TETHERED NEAR IT by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TWO POEMS TO HANS THOMA ON HIS SIXIETH BIRTHDAY: 1. MOONLIGHT NIGHT by RAINER MARIA RILKE SONNET: 36 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE BLUE CANTON-WARE by SARAH A. ATHEARN THE TEMPTATION OF OUR LORD: BALEUS PROLOCUTOR by JOHN BALE |