When I love, (as some have told, Love I shall when I am old) O ye Graces! Make me fit For the welcoming of it. Clean my Roomes, as Temples be, T' entertain that Deity. Give me words wherewith to wooe, Suppling and successefull too: Winning postures; and withall, Manners each way musicall: Sweetnesse to allay my sowre And unsmooth behaviour. For I know you have the skill Vines to prune, though not to kill, And of any wood ye see, You can make a Mercury. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TOMMY'S DEAD by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG [JULY 3, 1863] by WILL HENRY THOMPSON NIOBE: INEXORABLE DEATH by AESCHYLUS TITA'S TEARS; A FANTASY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH GEORGE LEVISON OR, THE SCHOOLFELLOWS by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM A NEW BIRTH by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 28. LOVE'S TRIUMPH OVER RICHES by PHILIP AYRES |