She will jilt a lover, When gray is this head; And lead a husband by the nose When I am dead. No toil shall ever stain her, All pleasure shall she prove, And cruelly spread 'round her The old illusion, love. For I was trapped and taken Many a time, that way; How easily can woman Man's weakest trait betray! You young men of the future, She now shall show you all What silly slaves of habit You are, when instincts call: Yes, she shall bear you captive In chains of bitter rue, To me, the only lover Whose will she chose to do! She will be jilting lovers, When grey is this head; And lead a husband by the nose When I am dead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EPILOGUE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BOBOLINKS by CHRISTOPHER PEARSE CRANCH IN TIME OF GRIEF by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 34. THE DARK GLASS by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI ON HIS RETURN FROM SPAIN by THOMAS WYATT THE OLD BRIDGE by SEYMOUR GREEN WHEELER BENJAMIN RUDEL TO THE LADY OF TRIPOLI by ROBERT BROWNING PARSON ALLEN'S RIDE [AUGUST 15, 1777] by WALLACE BRUCE HOME, SWEET HOME WITH VARIATIONS: 2. ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |