When you are Mistresse of the song, Mighty Queen, to thinke it long, Were treason 'gainst that Majestie Your vertue wears. Your modestie Yet thinks it so. But ev'n that too (Infinite, since part of You) New matter to our Muse supplies, And so allows what it denies. Say then, dread Queen, how may we do To mediate 'twixt your self and You, That so our sweetly temper'd song Nor be too short, nor seem too long? Needs must your Noble praises strength That made it long, excuse the length. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HITS AND RUNS by CARL SANDBURG CLOTHES DO BUT CHEAT AND COZEN US by ROBERT HERRICK ITALY SWEET TOO! by JOHN KEATS THE RUNES ON WELAND'S SWORD by RUDYARD KIPLING ICHABOD by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |