The Emperor Octavian, called the August, I being his favorite, bestowed his name Upon me, and I hold it still in trust, In memory of him and of his fame. I am the Virgin, and my vestal flame Burns less intensely than the Lion's rage; Sheaves are my only garlands, and I claim The golden Harvests as my heritage. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING IN NEW HAMPSHIRE by CLAUDE MCKAY DAWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PERSPECTIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SHALL I SAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 1. SUNRISE IN THE TROPICS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |