TO HIS MISTRESS; AN ODE by ANACREON

NEAR Troy, Latona's rival makes her moan,
Chang'd by the Gods, into a weeping stone;
And ravish'd Philomel (they say 'tis true)
Became a bird, stretch'd out her wings, and flew.

But I could wish to be your looking-glass,
Thence to admire the beauties of your face:
Or @3robe de chambre@1, that each night and morn,
On those sweet limbs undrest, I might be worn.

Or else a crystal spring for your delight,
And you to bathe in those cool streams invite:
Or be some precious sweets to please the smell,
That in your hand, I near your lips might dwell.

Or string of pearls, upon your neck to rest,
Or pendent gem, kissing your snowy breast;
E'en to your feet, would I my wish pursue,
A shoe I'd be, might I be worn by you.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...