John Lyly

(1554 - November 1606 / Kent, England)

Vulcan's Song: In Making Of The Arrows - Poem by John Lyly

MY shag-hair Cyclops, come, let's ply
Our Lemnian hammers lustily.
By my wife's sparrows,
I swear these arrows
Shall singing fly
Through many a wanton's eye.

These headed are with golden blisses,
These silver ones feathered with kisses,
But this of lead
Strikes a clown dead,
When in a dance
He falls in a trance,
To see his black-brow lass not buss him,
And then whines out for death t'untruss him.
So, so : our work being done, let's play :
Holiday ! boys, cry holiday !


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Read poems about / on: dance, silver, work, hair, death, song, kiss



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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