I WAS ever man of Nature's framing So given o'er to roving, Who have been twenty years a taming, By ways that are not worth the naming, And now must die of loving? II Hell take me if she been't so winning That now I love her mainly, And though in jest at the beginning, Yet now I'd wond'rous fain be sinning, And so have told her plainly. III At which she cries I do not love her, And tells me of her honour; Then have I no way to disprove her, And my true passion to discover, But straight to fall upon her. IV Which done, forsooth, she talks of wedding, But what will that avail her? For though I am old dog at bedding, I'm yet a man of so much reading, That there I sure shall fail her. V No, hang me if I ever marry, Till womankind grow stauncher, I do delight delights to vary, And love not in one hulk to tarry, But only trim and launch her. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GRAVE OF LOVE by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK TO E. L., ON HIS TRAVELS IN GREECE by ALFRED TENNYSON DOVE RIVER ANTHOLOGY, BY OWN WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: LUCY GRAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS MOST ANY BIT OF LANDSCAPE by JEAN CAMERON AGNEW MOCK EPITAPH ON MR. AND MRS. ESTLIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SILENUS IN PROTEUS by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 89. THE LIMIT OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE ARTIST TO HIS WIFE by STANLEY KILNER BOOTH THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: A L'ENTRESOL by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |