ALTHOUGH beneath this grave-mound thy white bones now are lying, Surely, my huntress Lycas, the wild things dread thee still. The memory of thy worth tall Pelion keeps undying, And the looming peak of Ossa, and Cithaeron's lonely hill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL by ISAAC ROSENBERG VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 6. RUINS OF PAESTUM by SARA TEASDALE TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA by ROBERT BROWNING RECESSIONAL by RUDYARD KIPLING MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 6 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |