A Pastoral

A poem by Walter Savage Landor

Damon was sitting in the grove
With Phyllis, and protesting love;
And she was listening; but no word
Of all he loudly swore she heard.
How! was she deaf then? no, not she,
Phyllis was quite the contrary.
Tapping his elbow, she said, 'Hush!
O what a darling of a thrush!
I think he never sang so well
As now, below us, in the dell.'

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'A Pastoral' by Walter Savage Landor

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy