Tell me not, friend, you are unkind, If ink and books laid by, You turn up in a uniform Looking all smart and spry. I thought your ink one horrid smudge, Your books one pile of trash, And with less fear of smear embrace A sword, a belt, a sash. Yet this inconstancy forgive, Though gold lace I adore, I could not love the lace so much Loved I not Lovelace more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIDE-BY-NIGHTS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE BIRDS by NESTA HIGGINSON SKRINE VERSES: THE SEVENTH BOY by JOHN BYROM SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 41 by BLISS CARMAN THE FLITCH OF DUNMOW by JAMES CARNEGIE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. ON AN ATLANTIC STEAMSHIP by EDWARD CARPENTER |