Poems by George Pope Morris
page 68 of 342 (19%)
page 68 of 342 (19%)
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Thy spirit, unavenged, McRea!
Lisette. When Love in myrtle shades reposed, His bow and darts behind him slung; As dewey twilight round him closed, Lisette these numbers sung: "O Love! thy sylvan bower I'll fly while I've the power; Thy primrose way leads maids where they Love, honor, and obey!" "Escape," the boy-god said, "is vain," And shook the diamonds from his wings: "I'll bind thee captive to my train, Fairest of earthy things!" "Go, saucy archer, go! I freedom's value know: Begon, I pray--to none I'll say Love, honor, and obey!" "Speed, arrow, to thy mark!" he cried-- |
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