Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde, That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde, To warre and armes I flee. True, a new mistresse now I chase. -- The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith imbrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore; I could not love thee, deare, so much, Loved I not honour more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WHISTLER, AMERICAN; ON LOAN EXHIBIT OF PAINTINGS AT TATE GALLERY by EZRA POUND A DEATH IN THE DESERT by ROBERT BROWNING A BOY'S SUMMER SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR DUNS SCOTUS'S OXFORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS EPITAPH ON S.P., A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL by BEN JONSON THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE |