HUMOUR, say, what mak'st thou here, In the presence of a queen? Princes hold conceit most dear; All conceit in humour's seen. Thou'rt a heavy leaden mood; Humour is invention's food. But never humour yet was true, But that which only pleaseth you. O, I am as heavy as earth, Say then—who is humour now? I am now inclined to mirth, Humour, I, as well as thou. Why, then, 'tis I am drowned in woe: No, no wit is cherished so: But never humour yet was true, But that which only pleaseth you. Mirth then is drowned in sorrow's brim: O, in sorrow all thing's sleep; No, no fool, the light things swim: Heavy things sink to the deep. In her presence all things smile, Humour, frolic then awhile: But never humour yet was true, But that which only pleaseth you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SHAMEFUL DEATH by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) VERSES ON SEEING THE SPEAKER ASLEEP IN HIS CHAIR by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED WINTER TREE by WALTER R. ADAMS NOVEMB. 5. 1644 by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE INTREPID MARINER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET EDITHA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS AIRS SUNG AT BROUGHAM CASTLE: THE KINGS GOOD NIGHT by THOMAS CAMPION |