A PURLING brook glides by this place away, Its tribute to the royal Thames to pay, Nature makes arbours here, and ev'ry tree Disposes all its boughs to favour me; The birds' sweet notes here Echo's do repeat, Here gentle winds do moderate summer's heat: Clear is the air, and verdant is the grass, My couch of flowers, the stream's my looking-glass. Ah, Cynthia! All the birds that hear and see, Seem in their language to condole with me, And as I mourn, they pretty songs do sing, T' express thy rigour, and my suffering. Whilst to the list'ning air I make my moan, And sigh and murmur sitting here alone: The very air sighs at my misery, The waters murmur too in sympathy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LITTLE FEET by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN MY AIN COUNTREE by ALLAN CUNNINGHAM ON THE EMIGRATION TO AMERICA AND PEOPLING WESTERN COUNTRY by PHILIP FRENEAU FOR 'OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS' (BY LEONARDO DA VINCI) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNET TO LIBERTY by OSCAR WILDE ILLIMITABLE by GAMALIEL BRADFORD |