When curious Pandora, luckless lass, Brought all our pains to pass, Releasing from that Box those winged foes, The Troubles and all Woes, They flew about on impish mischief bent, And everywhere they went, Until at last, grown homesick, they would find The Box for them designed; And, lighting on a hollow human head, They made it serve instead. Thus, ever since, when skulls begin to throb, 'Tis that unholy mob Bold-beating on our heads with silent din, Intent to be let in; And in at last with stamping feet they come To make our heads their home. Oh, could I find Pandora's lock and key Before they come to me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHAT I'VE BELIEVED IN by JAMES GALVIN SUNSET by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EUGENIA TODD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WITH BEST WISHES by DOROTHY PARKER CLARK STREET BRIDGE by CARL SANDBURG |