You virgins, that did late despair To keep your wealth from cruel men, Tie up in silk your careless hair: Soft peace is come again. Now lovers' eyes may gently shoot A flame that will not kill; The drum was angry, but the lute Shall whisper what you will. Sing Io, Io! for his sake That hath restored your drooping heads; With choice of sweetest flowers make A garden where he treads; Whilst we whole groves of laurel bring, A petty triumph for his brow, Who is the master of our spring And all the bloom we owe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A CHILD DANCING IN THE WIND: 2 by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS UPON THE DEATH OF MY EVER CONSTANT FRIEND DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by HENRY KING (1592-1669) DEJECTION by GRACE E. ALBRIGHT ON THE DEATH OF CYNTHIA'S HORSE by PHILIP AYRES SKYFARER by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD |