Author William Drummond of Hawthornden This is no work of stone, Though it seems breathlesse, cold, and sense hath none, But that false god which keeps The monstrous people of the raging deeps; Now that he doth not change his shape this while, It is thus constant more you to beguile. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments