THE tears o'erflow'd fair Cynthia's eyes, Her pretty bird away was flown; For this great loss she made her moan, And quarrell'd with her destinies. My Heart a secret joy exprest, As hoping good from that escape, Took wings, and in the fug'tive's shape, Got shelter in her snowy breast. Which prov'd a fatal resting-place, For she, th' impostor when she found, Gave it with spite a mortal wound, Then pleas'd, she laugh'd, and dried her face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ONE FAVORED ACORN by ROBERT FROST MOTHER NIGHT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MARTHA WASHINGTON by SIDNEY LANIER HE HAD HIS DREAM by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR REMEMBER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE CAUTIOUS HOUSEHOLDER by ANAXILAS |