Cease, Damon, cease, I'll hear no more; Your fulsome flattery give o'er; I scorn this mean fallacious art By which you'd steal, not win, my heart: In me it never can compassion move, And sooner will aversion raise than love. If you to love would me incline, Assert the man, forbear to whine; Let time and plain sincerity And faithful love your pleaders be; For trust me, Damon, if those fail, These servile wheedling tricks will ne'er prevail. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A YOUNG BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SELF-DEPENDENCE by MATTHEW ARNOLD A LOVE SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN; ON THE CENTOTAPH IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY by ALFRED TENNYSON PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN OF CHARTRES by HENRY BROOKS ADAMS SUBH-I-KAZIB by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON PSALM 117 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 113, TO ONE WITH HIS SONNETS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |