JULIA, young wanton, flung the gather'd snow, Nor fear'd I burning from the wat'ry blow: 'Tis cold, I cry'd, but ah! too soon I found, Sent by that hand it dealt a scorching wound. Resistless fair! we fly thy power in vain, Who turn'st to fiery darts the frozen rain; Burn, Julia, burn like me, and that desire With water which thou kindlest, quench with fire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAUGHTER (YOUTH SPEAKS TO HIS OWN OLD AGE) by CONRAD AIKEN THE PASSING OF THE EX-SLAVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CONSECRATED GROUND; READ AT THE NEW YORK CITY HALL by EDWIN MARKHAM SWEET CLOVER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CLARK STREET BRIDGE by CARL SANDBURG EASTER HYMN by GEORGE SANTAYANA BEFORE THE FLOWERS OF FRIENDSHIP FADED FADED: 21 by GERTRUDE STEIN |