Some men there be which like my method well And much commend the strangeness of my vein; Some say I have a passing pleasing strain; Some say that im my humor I excel; Some, who not kindly relish my conceit, They say, as poets do, I use to feign, And in bare words paint out my passion's pain. Thus sundry men their sundry words repeat; I pass not, I, how men affected be, Nor who commends or discommends my verse; It pleaseth me, if I my woes rehearse, And in my lines if she my love may see. Only my comfort still consists in this, Writing her praise I cannot write amiss. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATAWBA WINE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SEAWEED by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE ANCIENTS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET ECCLESIASTES by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ENGLISH COUNTRY (WHERE THREE SHIRES MEET) by WILLIAM BLISS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 104. WRITTEN AT FLORENCE: 2 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ZOPHIEL; OR THE BRIDE OF SEVEN: CANTO 2. DEATH OF ALTHEETOR by MARIA GOWEN BROOKS CROMWELL'S REFLECTIONS ON 'KILLING NO MURDER' by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |