BRIMFUL of anger, not of love, The champion sends his foe a glove; But I that have a double share Of the softer passion, send a pair. Nor think it, dearest Delia, cruel, That I invite you to a duel. Ready to meet you face to face, At any time, in any place: Nor shall I leave you in the lurch, Though you should dare to fix the church. There come equipped with all your charms, A ring and licence are my arms. I will the unequal contest try, Resolved to fight, though sure to die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DEAD STATESMAN by RUDYARD KIPLING TWILIGHT AT THE HEIGHTS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE SOLITARY WOODSMAN by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS OF CAUTION by FRANCESCO DA BARBERINI |