MAIDEN! wrap thy mantle round thee, Cold the rain beats on thy breast: Why should horror's voice astound thee, Death can bid the wretched rest! All under the tree Thy bed may be, And thou mayst slumber peacefully. Maiden! once gay Pleasure knew thee; Now thy cheeks are pale and deep: Love has been a felon to thee, Yet, poor maiden, do not weep: There's rest for thee All under the tree, Where thou wilt sleep most peacefully. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL QUI S'EXCUSE S'ACCUSE by MARIANNE MOORE THE PHANTOM KISS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR ON A BUST OF DANTE by THOMAS WILLIAM PARSONS COWLEY: THE GARDEN by ALEXANDER POPE UPON MY FATHERS SUDDEN & DANGEROUS SICKNESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |