1. English
  2. Philip Freneau
To a Caty-Did

  in a branch of willow hid
Sings the evening Caty-did:
From the lofty-locust bough
Feeding on a drop of dew,
In her suit of green arrayed
Hear her singing in the shade—
  Caty-did, Caty-did, Caty-did!

  While upon a leaf you tread,...

Poet: Philip Freneau
To a Honey Bee

Thou, born to sip the lake or spring,
  Or quaff the waters of the stream,
Why hither come, on vagrant wing?
  Does Bacchus tempting seem,—
    Did he for you this glass prepare?
    Will I admit you to a share?

Did storms harass or foes perplex...

Poet: Philip Freneau
Plato to Theon

The grandeur of this earthly round,
  Where Theon would forever be,
Is but a name, is but a sound—
  Mere emptiness and vanity.

Give me the stars, give me the skies,
  Give me the heaven’s remotest sphere,
Above these gloomy scenes to rise...

Poet: Philip Freneau
On the Ruins of a Country Inn

Where now these mingled ruins lie
  A temple once to Bacchus rose,
Beneath whose roof, aspiring high,
  Full many a guest forgot his woes.

No more this dome, by tempests torn,
  Affords a social safe retreat;
But ravens here, with eye forlorn,...

Poet: Philip Freneau