Eugene Field

(2 September 1850 - 4 November 1895 / St Louis / Missouri / United States)

Epilogue - Poem by Eugene Field

The day is done; and, lo! the shades
Melt 'neath Diana's mellow grace.
Hark, how those deep, designing maids
Feign terror in this sylvan place!
Come, friends, it's time that we should go;
We're honest married folk, you know.

Was not the wine delicious cool
Whose sweetness Pyrrha's smile enhanced?
And by that clear Bandusian pool
How gayly Chloe sung and danced!
And Lydia Die,--aha, methinks
You'll not forget the saucy minx!

But, oh, the echoes of those songs
That soothed our cares and lulled our hearts!
Not to that age nor this belongs
The glory of what heaven-born arts
Speak with the old distinctive charm
From yonder humble Sabine farm!

The day is done. Now off to bed,
Lest by some rural ruse surprised,
And by those artful girls misled,
You two be sadly compromised.
_You_ go; perhaps _I_'d better stay
To shoo the giddy things away!

But sometime we shall meet again
Beside Digentia, cool and clear,--
You and we twain, old friend; and then
We'll have our fill of pagan cheer.
Then, could old Horace join us three,
How proud and happy he would be!

Or if we part to meet no more
This side the misty Stygian Sea,
Be sure of this: on yonder shore
Sweet cheer awaiteth such as we;
A Sabine pagan's heaven, O friend,--
The fellowship that knows no end!

Comments about Epilogue by Eugene Field

  • Fabrizio Frosini (2/18/2016 2:22:00 PM)

    Prince, show me the quickest way and best
    To gain the subject of my moan;
    We've neither spinsters nor relics out West-
    These do I love, and these alone

    - ITALIAN:

    Principe, mostrami il modo più rapido e migliore
    Per conseguire ciò per cui mi lamento;
    Non abbiamo né zitelle né reliquie qui nel West-
    Io questi amo, e questi soli.
    (Report) Reply

    10 person liked.
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Poem Submitted: Friday, April 9, 2010

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