You lie who say the Gods have left the woods! See how forever, for her virginhood's Shadowy love, weeps Philomel; How Pomona makes the harvest swell With fruit beyond reason; How now as of old the Months parade Through the orchard sun and shade Each in its season. Boor with the ass's ear, Intruder on the woodland sports! Tell if the herdsman in vain exhorts Lucina for the ewe lambs of the year! If Pan less fervent summons fair Syrinx. Tell if my lip of red By the Muses featly led Of the simple, eloquent fountain-head Still drinks. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPH: FOR MY GRANDMOTHER by COUNTEE CULLEN MIDNIGHT ON THE GREAT WESTERN by THOMAS HARDY THE LAY OF THE LABOURER by THOMAS HOOD KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY by JOSIE R. HUNT THE DARK ANGEL by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON SONG [WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1732] by GEORGE LYTTELTON SPRING QUIET by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI WEIGHTS AND MEASURES, BY OUR OWN TOM DALY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |