Fortune, hates not, them that hate her: Fortune, loves not, them that love her: Fortune, would, and cannot rate her: Fortune, shall, and must remove her. And though fickle Fortune smile: It is but for a little while. Greene lovde Fortune foolish Man, Foolish man, why lovde he so? And her foolish race he ran, Foolish race thats run with woe. Woe than (Alas) was lesse misused? Now (Alas) is more abused? But let Fowles and foolish fellowes, Barke and byte their belly fill: It is not spightfull Envies bellowes, That can kindle fire still. No booke pleases all that come: None so bad but pleases some. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF SLAVERY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO THE BELOVED by ALICE MEYNELL THESEUS by THOMAS STURGE MOORE TO F - (MRS. FRANCES SARGENT OSGOOD) by EDGAR ALLAN POE ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 74 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE ENGINE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |