Good brother Philip, I have borne you long; I was content you should in favour creep, While craftily you seemed your cut to keep, As though that fair soft hand did you great wrong. I bare (with envy) yet I bare your song, When in her neck you did love-ditties peep; Nay, more fool I, oft suffered you to sleep In lilies' nest, where love's self lies along. What, doth high place ambitious thoughts augment? Is sauciness reward of courtesy? Cannot such grace your silly self content, But you must needs with those lips billing be, And through those lips drink nectar from that tongue? Leave that, sir Phip, lest off your neck be wrung. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12 by THOMAS CAMPION DYING SPEECH OF AN OLD PHILOSOPHER by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE FIRST DAY: PRELUDE. THE WAYSIDE INN by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BROOKLYN BRIDGE by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 23 by ALFRED TENNYSON |