Seven dog-days we let pass Naming Queens in Glenmacnass, All the rare and royal names Wormy sheepskin yet retains: Etain, Helen, Maeve and Fand, Golden Deirdre's tender hand; Bert, the big-foot, sung by Villon, Cassandra, Ronsard found in Lyon. Queens of Sheba, Meath and Connaught, Coifed with crown, or gaudy bonnet; Queens whose finger once did stir men, Queens were eaten of fleas and vermin, Queens men drew like Monna Lisa, Or slew with drugs in Rome and Pisa. We named Lucrezia Crivelli, And Titian's lady with amber belly, Queens acquainted with in learned sin, Jane of Jewry's slender shin: Queens who cut the bogs of Glanna, Judith of Scripture, and Gloriana, Queens who wasted the East by proxy, Or drove the ass-cart, a tinker's doxy. Yet these are rotten - I ask their pardon - And we've the sun on rock and garden; These are rotten, so you're the Queen Of all are living, or have been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITCHCRAFT BY A PICTURE by JOHN DONNE AN ODE UPON A QUESTION WHETHER LOVE SHOULD CONTINUE FOREVER by EDWARD HERBERT WHEN I HEARD AT THE CLOSE OF THE DAY by WALT WHITMAN THE WINDS OF FATE by ELLA WHEELER WILCOX THE SORROW OF LOVE (2) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SAN GABRIEL by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 5. THE LOCH by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |