@3Whither thus hastes my little book so fast? To Paul's Churchyard. What? in those cells to stand, With one leaf like a rider's cloak put up To catch a termer? or lie musty there With rimes a term set out, or two, before? Some will redeem me. Few. Yes, read me too. Fewer. Nay love me. Now thou doat'st, I see. Will not our English Athens art defend? Perhaps. Will lofty courtly wits not aim Still at perfection? if I grant? I fly. Whither? To Paul's. Alas, poor book, I rue Thy rash self-love. Go, spread thy pap'ry wings; Thy lightness cannot help or hurt my fame.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LUCINDA MATLOCK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE RAVAGED VILLA by HERMAN MELVILLE DRIFTING by THOMAS BUCHANAN READ FOREIGN LANDS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: EPILOGUE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 1 by MARK AKENSIDE |