By orchards red he whisks along, A charioteer from villa fine; With passing lash o' the whip he cuts A way-side Weed divine. But knows he what it is he does? He flouts October's god Whose sceptre is this Way-side Weed, This swaying Golden Rod? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ANGEL, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE PRAISE FOR AN URN; IN MEMORIAM: ERNEST NELSON by HAROLD HART CRANE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 57. TRUE WOMAN, HER LOVE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONG, FR. MEASURE FOR MEASURE by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AMBITION AND CONTENT; A FABLE by MARK AKENSIDE |