FOOLISH prater, what dost thou So early at my window do? Cruel bird, thou'st ta'en away A dream out of my arms to-day; A dream that ne'er must equall'd be By all that waking eyes may see. Thou this damage to repair Nothing half so sweet and fair, Nothing half so good, canst bring, Tho' men say thou bring'st the Spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COTTON CLUB by CLARENCE MAJOR THE BLIND GOD by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS by THOMAS MOORE CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES' by ISOBEL (ISABEL) PAGAN THE LAMENT OF THE FLOWERS by JONES VERY STANZAS ADDRESSED TO SOME FRIEND GOING TO THE SEA-SIDE by BERNARD BARTON CHILD OF MARY'S SOUL by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST |