JOVE warns us with his lightning first, Before he sends his thunder; Before the cock begins to crow, He claps his wings down under. But I, who go to see a maid, This springtime in the morning, Fall under every spell she has, Without a word of warning. She little thinks what charms her breath To cunning eyes reveal; The waves that down her body glide, That from her bosom steal. Her moth-like plumpness caught my eye, I watched it like a spider; By her own hair my web is made, To fasten me beside her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONOLOGUE FROM A MATTRESS by LOUIS UNTERMEYER HOHENLINDEN by THOMAS CAMPBELL THE DESERTED HOUSE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE HER MERRIMENT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE COMPLAINT OF THE FAIR ARMOURESS by FRANCOIS VILLON IN THE WATER by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE SURF by JURGIS BALTRUSHAITIS TO MRS -- RETURNING FINE HYACINTH PLANT AFTER BLOOM IS OVER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |