NOR oils of balmy scent produce, Nor mirror for Minerva's use, Ye nymphs who lave her; she, arrayed In genuine beauty, scorns their aid. Not even when they left the skies To seek on Ida's head the prize From Paris' hand, did Juno deign, Or Pallas in the crystal plain Of Simois' stream her locks to trace, Or in the mirror's polished face, Though Venus oft with anxious care Adjusted twice a single hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESOLUTION OF DEPENDENCE by GEORGE BARKER ALL THAT'S PAST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS PEEWEE by ALFRED FRANCIS KREYMBORG OUR MODEST DOUGHBOYS by CHARLTON ANDREWS |