Perilla! to thy fates resign'd, Think not what years are gone: While Atalanta lookt behind The golden fruit roll'd on. Albeit a mother may have lost The plaything at her breast, Albeit the one she cherisht most, It but endears the rest. Youth, my Perilla, clings on Hope, And looks into the skies For brighter day; she fears to cope With grief, she shrinks at sighs. Why should the memory of the past Make you and me complain? Come, as we could not hold it fast, We'll play it o'er again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SEVEN ARTS by ROBERT FROST AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW A DAY DREAM by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE IN HOSPITAL: 3. INTERIOR by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE LAST LEAF by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES FOR A MARRIAGE OF SAINT KATHERINE [OR, CATHERINE] by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE BLESSED DAMOZEL by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |