Ye living lamps, by whose dear light
The nightingale does sit so late,
And studying all the summer night,
Her matchless songs does meditate;
Ye county comets, that portend
No war nor prince's funeral,
Shining unto no higher end
Than to presage the grass's fall;
Ye glow-worms, whose officious flame
To wand'ring mowers shows the way,
That in the night have lost their aim,
And after foolish fires do stray;
Your courteous lights in vain you waste,
Since Juliana here is come,
For she my mind hath so displac'd
That I shall never find my home.
The Mower To The Glow-worms
Andrew Marvell
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Poem topics: funeral, home, light, lost, never, summer, war, dear, grass, mind, foolish, flame, stray, waste, shining, night, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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