A PRETTY game, my girl, To play with me so long; Until this other lover Comes dancing to thy song, And my affair is over. But love, though well adored, Is not my only note: So let thy false love-prattle Be in another man's throat That weaker man's death-rattle. Ah, such as thou, at last, Wilt take a false man's hand: Think kindly then of me, When thou'rt forsaken, and The shame sits on thy knee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HORACE BUMSTEAD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON ALONE (2) by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE A TERRE (BEING THE PHILOSOPHY OF MANY SOLDIERS) by WILFRED OWEN IN MEMORIAM W.M. & E.B.J. by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT CLIMBING by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE RONALDS OF THE BENNALS by ROBERT BURNS |