Folly, my dear, the more I see of you, Your beckoning smile and understanding eyes, The more I tire of Wisdom and her crew They are so dull, and you so otherwise. Of course I don't believe the tales I've heard Of how you carry on with other men. Their pastimes are so utterly absurd, While mine, well, that is something else again. That silly Jones who meets you on the links, And Brown, whose schooner in the offing lies, How little either of them ever thinks That someone else may carry off the prize. Really, my dear, I feel that Fate has planned Our friendship -- may I call it more some day? That I at last shall hold your lovely hand, And take up Folly, in a serious way. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BUTCHER SHOP by DAVID IGNATOW AN AMERICAN IN BANGKOK by KAREN SWENSON THE BEAUTIFUL by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES CORONATION by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON DEWEY IN MANILA BAY [MAY 1, 1898] by RICHARD VORHEES RISLEY AT HOME by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |