You may drink to your leman in gold, In a great golden goblet of wine; She's as ripe as the wine, and as bold As the glare of the gold: But this little lady of mine, I will not profane her in wine. I go where the garden so still is (The moon raining through), To pluck the white bowls of the lilies, And drink her in dew! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES WRITTEN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS by MATTHEW ARNOLD MY LOVE'S GUARDIAN ANGEL by WILLIAM BARNES ESCAPE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE SMACK IN SCHOOL by WILLIAM PITT PALMER CLERICAL OPPRESSORS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER NEAR DOVER, SEPTEMBER 1802 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |