THE turtle on yon withered bough,
That lately mourned her murdered mate,
Has found another comrade now--
Such changes all await!
Again her drooping plume is drest,
Again she's willing to be blest
And takes her lover to her nest.

If nature has decreed it so
With all above, and all below,
Let us like them forget our woe,
And not be killed with sorrow.
If I should quit your arms to-night
And chance to die before 't was light,
I would advise you -- and you might --
Love again to-morrow.

Poet: Philip Freneau
Poem: Song of Thyrsis
Volume: The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900
Year: Published/Written in 1915

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, Song of Thyrsis, has received 29 comments. Click here to read them, and perhaps post a comment of your own.