WERE'T not for you, here should my pen have rest And take a long leave of sweet poesy; Britannia's swains, and rivers far by west, Should hear no more mine oaten melody; Yet shall the song I sung of them awhile Unperfect lie, and make no further known The happy loves of this our pleasant Isle; Till I have left some record of mine own. You are the subject now, and, writing you, I well may versify, not poetize: Here needs no fiction: for the graces true And virtues clip not with base flatteries. Here could I write what you deserve of praise, Others might wear, but I should win the bays. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PARTY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR SAGE COUNSEL by ARTHUR THOMAS QUILLER-COUCH THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 27. HEART'S COMPASS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE JEWISH MARTYRS by W. V. B. BOUGHT WITH A PRICE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE RETURN OF THE DRUSES; A TRAGEDY by ROBERT BROWNING THE MONK AND THE PEASANT by MARGARET E. BRUNER |