Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SONNET (1), by PHILIPPE DESPORTES First Line: When att your handes of love the sugred fruite Last Line: But pleasure yow may taste off yf yow lyste. | ||||||||
When att your handes of love the sugred fruite I dyd requeste in guerdon of my truth Yow dyd alleadge to hynder such my Sute good fame which dyd surpasse delights of youth But as a man I pleasure dyd preferr with those sweete Joyes which I in love doe fynde Before those dreams that make us thinke wee err and lyve in awe of woordes that are but wynde For frankly speake and then sweet frende tell me in theis great termes off fame what profe is founde That doth delyght or with our sence agree on olde wives tales, a fancye vaine yow grownde For in conceite alone doth fame Consyste But pleasure yow may taste off yf yow lyste. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF DIANA by PHILIPPE DESPORTES SONNET (2) by PHILIPPE DESPORTES SONNET (3) by PHILIPPE DESPORTES VILLANELLE by PHILIPPE DESPORTES CYCLAMENS by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY THE LEADEN-EYED by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY WITHOUT AND WITHIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE CITY MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY [OR, GARDEN] MOUSE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |
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