JULIA, young wanton, flung the gather'd snow, Nor fear'd I burning from the wat'ry blow: 'Tis cold, I cry'd, but ah! too soon I found, Sent by that hand it dealt a scorching wound. Resistless fair! we fly thy power in vain, Who turn'st to fiery darts the frozen rain; Burn, Julia, burn like me, and that desire With water which thou kindlest, quench with fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO RICHARD R. WRIGHT - INSTRUCTOR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GUARDIAN OF THE RED DISK (SPOKEN BY A CITIZEN OF MALTA - 1300) by EMMA LAZARUS TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS DOMESDAY BOOK: ARCHIBALD LOWELL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE GREAT RACE PASSES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |