As on a hill-top rude, when closing day Imbrowns the scene, some pastoral maiden fair Waters a lovely foreign plant with care, Borne from its native genial airs away, That scarcely can its tender bud display; So on my tongue these accents, new and rare, Are flowers exotic, which Love waters there. While thus, O sweetly scornful! I essay Thy praise in verse to British ears unknown, And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain; So Love has willed, and ofttimes Love has shown That what he wills he never wills in vain. Oh that this hard and steril breast might be To Him, who plants from heaven, a soil as free! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WISDOM COMETH WITH THE YEARS by COUNTEE CULLEN SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: THE VILLAGE ATHEIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA |