ONCE more the Lad with golden hair His purple ball across the air Flings at me, true to aim; And light her broidered slippers go, That Lesbian lass, -- my playfellow As Love would set the game. O Lesbos isle is tight and trim . . . She's not the breed to pleasure him, Another game she plays; My hair mislikes her, grown so white; There's someone lovelier in her sight Who draws that callow gaze. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARCHITECT (1) by KAREN SWENSON JACOBITE'S TOAST (TO AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY) by JOHN BYROM IN HONOR OF TAFFY TOPAZ by CHRISTOPHER DARLINGTON MORLEY THE BROKEN FIELD by SARA TEASDALE THE RAJPOOT WIFE by EDWIN ARNOLD BOOKS FOR THE PEOPLE by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA BELINDA'S RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS by WILLIAM BROOME A THOUGHT FOR A LONELY DEATH-BED by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |