TELL me, fair maid, tell me truly, How should infant Love be fed; If with dewdrops, shed so newly On the bright green clover blade; Or, with roses plucked in July, And with honey liquored? O, no! O, no! Let roses blow, And dew-stars to green blade cling: Other fare, More light and rare, Befits that gentlest Nursling. Feed him with the sigh that rushes 'Twixt sweet lips, whose muteness speaks With the eloquence that flushes All a heart's wealth o'er soft cheeks; Feed him with a world of blushes, And the glance that shuns, yet seeks: For 'tis with food, So light and good, That the Spirit child is fed; And with the tear Of joyous fear That the small Elf's liquored. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRA LIPPO LIPPI by ROBERT BROWNING THE RHODORA: ON BEING ASKED, WHENCE IS THE FLOWER? by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ON THE DEATH OF JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE by FITZ-GREENE HALLECK YOU ON THE TOWER by THOMAS HARDY ELAINE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 11. ON LOVE - TO A FRIEND by MARK AKENSIDE |