LYCE, the gods have listened to my prayer: The gods have listened, Lyce. Thou art gray And still would'st thou seem fair; Still unshamed drink, and play, And, wine-flushed, woo slow-answering Love with weak Shrill pipings. With young Chia He doth dwell, Queen of the harp; her cheek Is his sweet citadel: -- He marked the withered oak, and on he flew Intolerant; shrank from Lyce grim and wrinkled, Whose teeth are ghastly-blue, Whose temples snow-besprinkled: -- Not purple, not the brightest gem that glows, Brings back to her the years which, fleeting fast, Time hath once shut in those Dark annals of the Past. Oh, where is all thy loveliness? soft hue And motions soft? Oh, what of Her doth rest, Her, who breathed love, who drew My heart out of my breast? Fair, and far-famed, and subtly sweet, thy face Ranked next to Cinara's. But to Cinara fate Gave but a few years' grace; And lets live, all too late, Lyce, the rival of the beldam crow: That fiery youth may see with scornful brow The torch that long ago Beamed bright, a cinder now. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD MEN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS OLNEY HYMNS: 9. THE CONTRITE HEART by WILLIAM COWPER HAWTHORNE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE TENT ON THE BEACH: 8. THE CABLE HYMN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER AT A COWBOY DANCE by JAMES BARTON ADAMS THE BROWN GIANT by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |