SHE wrapped her soul in a lace of lies, With a prime deceit to pin it; And I thought I was gaining a fearsome prize, So I staked my soul to win it. We wed and parted on her complaint, And both were a bit of barter, Tho' I'll confess that I'm no saint, I'll swear that she's no martyr. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MIDNIGHT-BY THE OPEN WINDOW by LOUIS UNTERMEYER RYTON FIRS by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY FOR MY CHILD by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS POLYHYMNIA: SONNET TO LADY FALKLAND UPON HER GOING TO INTO IRELAND by WILLIAM BASSE |