O Neptune! Neptune! must I still
Be here detain'd against my will?
Is this your justice, when I'm come
Above two hundred miles from home;
O'er mountains steep, o'er dusty plains,
Half choked with dust, half drown'd with rains,
Only your godship to implore,
To let me kiss your other shore?
A boon so small! but I may weep,
While you're like Baal, fast asleep.
Another, At Holyhead [1] (epigrams On Windows)
Jonathan Swift
(1)
Poem topics: home, justice, kiss, shore, fast, small, dust, steep, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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