I call, I call, who doe ye call? The Maids to catch this Cowslip-ball: But since these Cowslips fading be, Troth, leave the flowers, and Maids, take me. Yet, if that neither you will doe, Speak but the word, and Ile take you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VOICES OF THE AIR by KATHERINE MANSFIELD HAWORTH CHURCHYARD by MATTHEW ARNOLD THANKSGIVING DAY by LYDIA MARIA CHILD O MAGNET-SOUTH by WALT WHITMAN TO --, WITH ARTHUR AND ALBINA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THOUGHTS NEAR ASHAMPSTEAD AERODROME, HARVEST-TIME by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB |