NOR oils of balmy scent produce, Nor mirror for Minerva's use, Ye nymphs who lave her; she, arrayed In genuine beauty, scorns their aid. Not even when they left the skies To seek on Ida's head the prize From Paris' hand, did Juno deign, Or Pallas in the crystal plain Of Simois' stream her locks to trace, Or in the mirror's polished face, Though Venus oft with anxious care Adjusted twice a single hair. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE VILLAGE by HAYDEN CARRUTH CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH WESTERN CIVILIZATION by JAMES GALVIN DREAM LIFE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPRINGTIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 5. MARYLAND by CLARENCE MAJOR |