TO you, fair maidens, I address, Sent to adorn your life; And she who first my name can guess, Shall first be made a wife. From the dark womb of mother earth, To mortal's aid I come; But ere I can receive my birth, I many shapes assume. Passive by nature, yet I'm made As active as the roe; And oftentimes, with equal speed, Through flowery lawns I go. When wicked men their wealth consume, And leave their children poor, To me their daughters often come, And I encrease their store. The women of the wiser kind, Did never once refuse me; But yet I never once could find That maids of honour use me. The lily hand and brilliant eye, May charm without my aid; Beauty may strike the lover's eye, And love inspire the maid. But let the' enchanting nymph be told, Unless I grace her life, She must have wondrous store of gold, Or make a wretched wife. Although I never hope to rest, With Christians I go forth; And while they worship to the east, I prostrate to the north. If you suspect hypocrisy, Or think me insincere, Produce the zealot, who, like me, Can tremble and adhere. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANOTHER SONG WITHOUT WORDS by PAUL VERLAINE THE RIGS O' BARLEY by ROBERT BURNS SONNET TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT ... MY INFANT TO ME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE COUNT THAT DAY LOST by MARY ANN EVANS THE TWO OLD BACHELORS by EDWARD LEAR |