WOULD that I were naked Adam, And you like Eve ran bare, Though all our friends and other folk Unborn, unthought-of, were! Should we miss house or street or town, Gossip, tea or cake, Might we but climb a breeze-rocked pine, Doze there or lie awake? Ah, nothing grieves that is itself: Say, are these millions men Who, boxed in slate-roofed rows, there sicken For sea, forest or glen? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMANZOR & ALMAHIDE, OR THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA: PART 2. EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN THE INDIAN BURYING GROUND by PHILIP FRENEAU TO MRS. THRALE [ON HER COMPLETING HER THIRTY-FIFTH YEAR] by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) FESTE'S SONG (2), FR. TWELFTH NIGHT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE DEDICATION TO POEMS, LYRICS AND SONNETS by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON BEHIND THE LINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 25 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH |