WHY, Chloe, like a timid hind Upon the rugged mountains flying At every motion of the wind Affrighted to its mother hieing,— Why dost avoid me? If but the tender branches move Upon the zephyr gently swaying, Should lizard rustle in the grove,— Through all thy form, see, terror playing! No lion, I, from Afric's clime; No tiger from the jungle's cover. Leave then thy mother; it is time That thou shouldst own a lover. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 3 by EZRA POUND DIRGE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON SONG: THE STRICKEN DEER by THOMAS MOORE IN THE PINK' by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE LITTLE CROSS by EDITH AGNEW PORTRAIT BY PICHER by FRANCES BAKER |