DAMON, thrice happy are thy lays, Which Amarillis deigns to praise, And teachest them no restless flame, But centres thy love there whence first it came! Her soul she, and her wealthy flocks, Mingles with thine; braids her bright locks Becomingly with thy brown shade, Whence the Morn is so sweetly doubtful made. Oh, may that twisted twilight's power Infuse in each successive hour Eternal calms, untainted rays! Your tresses rule her nights, and hers your days! Whilst Thyrsis his sad reed inspires With nought, but sighs and hopeless fires, Yet glad to spy from his dark cell The dawn of Joy from others night expel. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HEART OF THE BRUCE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN HERITAGE by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE (WASHINGTON CITY, 1865) by WALT WHITMAN THE DAUGHTERS OF ATLAS by AESCHYLUS THE KISS TO THE FLAG by JEAN FRANCOIS VICTOR AICARD BRUCE CONSULTS HIS MEN by JOHN BARBOUR MAXIMS FOR THE OLD HOUSE: THE STAIR by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |