PRISCILLA is a maid devout In this repentant season, And to the world and all its ways Has vowed a pious treason. Sweet little saint, so shy, demure! -- Though long I've tried to win her I fear that I'm not in it with Some other lucky sinner. For when I begged she'd trust her heart To me, and o'er her bent, She blushed and softly murmured, "How can I when it's Lent." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HUFFMAN'S PHOTOGRAPH OF THE GRAVES OF THE UNKNOWN AT LITTLE BIGHORN by KAREN SWENSON TO SIR HENRY WOTTON (1) by JOHN DONNE AUSPEX by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE [MAY 24, 1883] by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR MY PRAYER FOR TODAY by MAUD AKERS THE TREE OF LIFE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND WHO DIED ON SABBATH MORNING by ELIZABETH BOGART |