Fine Madam Would-Be, wherefore should you fear, That love to make so well, a child to bear? The world reputes you barren; but I know Your 'pothecary, and his drug says no. Is it the pain affrights? That's soon forgot. Or your complexion's loss? You have a pot That can restore that. Will it hurt your feature? To make amends, you're thought a wholesome creature. What should the cause be? Oh, you live at court, And there's both loss of time and loss of sport In a great belly. Write, then, on thy womb, Of the not born, yet buried, here's the tomb. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG BY THE WINDOW BEFORE BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD AN EVANGELIST'S WIFE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON WAITING - BOTH by THOMAS HARDY A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 50 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SONNET: 8 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AN AUTOGRAPH (1) by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER EPITAPH by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE |