POOR silly fool! thou striv'st in vain to know, If I enjoy, or love whom thou lov'st so; Since my affection ever secret tried Blooms like the fern, and seeds still unespied. And as the subtle flames of Heaven, that wound The inward part, yet leave the outward sound: My love wars on my heart, kills that within, When merry are my looks, and fresh my skin. Of yellow jaundice lovers as you be, Whose faces straight proclaim their malady, Think not to find me one; who know full well, That none but French and fools love now and tell. His griefs are sweet, his joys (O) heavenly move, Who from the world conceals his honest love; Nay, lets his mistress know his passion's source Rather by reason than by his discourse. This is my way, and in this language new Showing my merit, it demands my due; And hold this maxim, spite of all dispute, He asks enough that serves well and is mute. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE OLD SEXTON by PARK BENJAMIN PLEAD FOR ME by EMILY JANE BRONTE JEALOUSY by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE ROPEWALK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BASE DETAILS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON HEART AND MIND by EDITH SITWELL |