THIS new Diana makes weak men her prey, And, making captive, still would fain pursue, And still would keep, and still would drive away, -- So day by day, Hate, hunt, do murder, and yet love them too; Ah, dear Diana! 'T were well, poor fools, to shun her cruel spear, More fatal far than that which slew of old; Her spear is wit, that she so brings to bear; Then laughs to hear When it has struck, and one more heart runs cold; Ah, dear Diana! Be wise, O fools, and shun her cruel eyes, Which, when you see, you straight must love, to death. This new Diana has such sorceries, Who loves her, dies; And dying, cries still, with his latest breath, -- Ah, dear Diana! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ABANDONED RANCH, BIG BEND by HAYDEN CARRUTH BRIGHTNESS AS A POIGNANT LIGHT by DAVID IGNATOW THE CRANES OF IBYCUS by EMMA LAZARUS A NEW HYMN by KATHERINE MANSFIELD ELEGY: THE GHOST WHOSE LIPS WERE WARM; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL |