Clorinda And Damon
C.
Damon come drive thy flocks this way.
D.
No : 'tis too late they went astray.
C.
I have a grassy Scutcheon spy'd,
Where Flora blazons all her pride.
The grass I aim to feast thy Sheep :
The Flow'rs I for thy Temples keep.
D.
Grass withers; and the Flow'rs too fade.
C.
Seize the short Joyes then, ere they vade.
Seest thou that unfrequented Cave ?
D.
That den?
C.
Loves Shrine.
D.
But Virtue's Grave.
C.
In whose cool bosome we may lye
Safe from the Sun.
D.
Not Heaven's Eye.
C.
Near this, a Fountaines liquid Bell
Tinkles within the concave Shell.
D.
Might a Soul bath there and be clean,
Or slake its Drought?
C.
What is 't you mean?
D.
These once had been enticing things,
Clorinda, Pastures, Caves, and Springs.
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poem by Andrew Marvell
Added by Poetry Lover
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