SING me no more such ditties: they are well For the last gossips, when the snowy wind Howls in the chimney till the very taper Trembles with its blue flame, and the bolted gates Rattle before old winter's palsied hand. If you will sing, let it be cheerily Of dallying love. There's many a one among you Hath sung, beneath our oak trees to his maiden, Light bird-like mockeries, fit for love in springtime. Sing such a one. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GAME OF CHESS by EZRA POUND MOTHER EARTH by GEORGE SANTAYANA LAMENT FOR FLODDEN [FIELD] by JEAN ELLIOT (1727-1805) IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 23 by ALFRED TENNYSON TO THE EARL OF WARWICK ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON by THOMAS TICKELL A PITIFUL CASE by WILLIAM BLAKE |