Jon Corelis Theocritus Never Poems

  • 1.
    Not for us only, Nicias, (vain the dream,)
    Sprung from what god soe'er, was Eros born:
    Not to us only grace doth graceful seem,
    Frail things who wot not of the coming morn.
    ...
  • 2.
    COMETAS.
    Goats, from a shepherd who stands here, from Lacon, keep away:
    Sibyrtas owns him; and he stole my goatskin yesterday.

    ...
  • 3.
    For yon oaken avenue, swain, you must steer,
    Where a statue of figwood, you'll see, has been set:
    It has never been barked, has three legs and no ear;
    But I think there is life in the patriarch yet.
    ...
  • 4.
    When Cypris saw Adonis,
    In death already lying
    With all his locks dishevelled,
    And cheeks turned wan and ghastly,
    ...
  • 5.
    Poor Thyrsis! What boots it to weep out thine eyes?
    Thy kid was a fair one, I own:
    But the wolf with his cruel claw made her his prize,
    And to darkness her spirit hath flown.
    ...
  • 6.
    GORGO.
    Is dame Praxinoa in?

    PRAXINOA.
    ...
  • 7.
    Thou art come, love, come! Scarce thrice hath dusk to day
    Given place-but lovers in an hour grow gray.
    As spring's more sweet than winter, grapes than thorns,
    The ewe's fleece richer than her latest-born's;
    ...
  • 8.
    Friend, Ortho of Syracuse gives thee this charge:
    Never venture out, drunk, on a wild winter's night.
    I did so and died. My possessions were large;
    Yet the turf that I'm clad with is strange to me quite.
    ...
  • 9.
    'Sincerity comes with the wine-cup,' my dear:
    Then now o'er our wine-cups let us be sincere.
    My soul's treasured secret to you I'll impart;
    It is this; that I never won fairly your heart.
    ...
Total 9 Never Poems by Jon Corelis Theocritus

Top 10 most used topics by Jon Corelis Theocritus

Love 10 I Love You 10 Sweet 9 Never 9 Wild 9 Young 8 High 7 Sake 7 Bring 7 Mother 7

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Ballade Of The Midnight Forest
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Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
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