SINCE truth ha' left the shepherd's tongue, Adieu the cheerful pipe and song; Adieu the dance at closing day. And, ah, the happy morn of May. How oft he told me I was fair. And wove the garland for my hair; How oft for Marian stripped the bower, To fill my lap with every flower! No more his gifts of guile I'll wear, But from my brow the chaplet tear; The crook he gave in pieces break, And rend his ribbons from my neek. How oft he vowed a constant flame, And carved on every oak my name! Blush, Colin, that the wounded tree Is all that will remember me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK WINDY NIGHTS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON LINES TO THE MEMORY OF ANNIE WHO DIED AT MILAN, JUNE 6, 1860 by HARRIET BEECHER STOWE THE MERMAID by ALFRED TENNYSON ON THE MOOR by ROBERT ADAMSON (1832-) |