Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SUSPICION UPON HIS OVER-MUCH FAMILIARITY WITH GENTEWOMAN, by ROBERT HERRICK Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: And must we part, because some say Last Line: From fames black lips, as you from me. Subject(s): Love - Loss Of | ||||||||
And must we part, because some say, Loud is our love, and loose our play, And more then well becomes the day? Alas for pitty! and for us Most innocent, and injur'd thus. Had we kept close, or play'd within, Suspition now had been the sinne, And shame had follow'd long ere this, T'ave plagu'd, what now unpunisht is. But we as fearlesse of the Sunne, As faultlesse; will not wish undone, What now is done: since where no sin Unbolts the doore, no shame comes in. Then comely and most fragrant Maid, Be you more warie, then afraid Of these Reports; because you see The fairest most suspected be. The common formes have no one eye, Or eare of burning jealousie To follow them: but chiefly, where Love makes the cheek, and chin a sphere To dance and play in: (Trust me) there Suspicion questions every haire. Come, you are faire; and sho'd be seen While you are in your sprightfull green: And what though you had been embrac't By me, were you for that unchast? No, no, no more then is yond' Moone, Which shining in her perfect Noone; In all that great and glorious light, Continues cold, as is the night. Then, beauteous Maid, you may retire; And as for me, my chast desire Shall move t'wards you; although I see Your face no more: So live you free From Fames black lips, as you from me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROSE AND MURRAY by CONRAD AIKEN THOUGH WE NO LONGER POSSESS IT by MARK JARMAN THE GLORY OF THE DAY WAS IN HER FACE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON LOVE COME AND GONE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 28 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 33 by JAMES JOYCE A SCOTCH SONG by JOANNA BAILLIE A CHRISTMAS CAROL, SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL by ROBERT HERRICK A MEDITATION FOR HIS MISTRESS by ROBERT HERRICK A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK |
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