Love, born in Greece, of late fled from his native place, Forced by a tedious proof, that Turkish hardened heart Is no fit mark to pierce with his fine pointed dart; And pleased with our soft peace, stayed here his flying race. But finding these North climes too coldly him embrace, Not used to frozen clips, he strave to find some part Where with most ease and warmth he might employ his art. At length he perched himself in Stella's joyful face, Whose fair skin, beamy eyes, like morning sun on snow, Deceived the quaking boy, who thought from so pure light Effects of lively heat must needs in nature grow. But she, most fair, most cold, made him thence take his flight To my close heart, where, while some firebrands he did lay, He burnt unwares his wings, and cannot fly away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHARGE OF THE BREAD BRIGADE by EZRA POUND LAMENT by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TO THE DAISY (1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH CHARITY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD TO THE HORSE BLACK EAGLE WHICH I RODE AT THE BATTLE ZAMORNA by EMILY JANE BRONTE AT THE LINCOLN MEMORIAL by WILLIAM E. BROOKS |