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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529909" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song of the Stygian Naiades</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Proserpine may pull her flowers, <br>Wet with dew or wet with tears, <br>Red with anger, pale with fears; <br>Is it any fault of ours, <br>If Pluto be an amorous king <br>And come home nightly, laden <br>Under his broad bat-wing <br>With a gentle earthly maiden? <br>Is it so, Wind, is it so? <br>All that I and you do know <br>Is that we saw fly and fix <br>'Mongst the flowers and reeds of Styx, <br> Yesterday, <br>Where the Furies made their hay <br>For a bed of tiger cubs, <br>A great fly of Beelzebub's, <br>The bee of hearts, which mortals name <br>Cupid, Love, and Fie for shame. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Proserpine may weep in rage, <br>But ere I and you have done <br>Kissing, bathing in the sun, <br>What I have in yonder cage, <br>She shall guess and ask in vain, <br>Bird or serpent, wild or tame; <br>But if Pluto does 't again, <br>It shall sing out loud his shame. <br>What hast caught then? What hast caught? <br>Nothing but a poet's thought, <br>Which so light did fall and fix <br>'Mongst the flowers and reeds of Styx, <br> Yesterday, <br>Where the Furies made their hay <br>For a bed of tiger cubs, <br>A great fly of Beelzebub's, <br>The bee of hearts, which mortals name <br>Cupid, Love, and Fie for shame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Lovell+Beddoes">Thomas Lovell Beddoes</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529909" data-title="Song of the Stygian Naiades de Thomas Lovell Beddoes" data-description="Proserpine may pull her flowers, 
Wet with dew or wet with tears, 
Red with anger, pale with fears; 
Is it any fault of ours, 
If Pluto be an amorous king 
And come home nightly, laden 
Under his broad bat-wing 
With a gentle earthly maiden? 
Is i..."></div>
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