1. I will confesse With Cheerfulnesse, Love is a thing so likes me, That let her lay On me all day, Ile kiss the hand that strikes me. 2. I will not, I, Now blubb'ring, cry, It (Ah!) too late repents me That I did fall To love at all, Since love so much contents me. 3. No, no, Ile be In fetters free; While others they sit wringing Their hands for paine; Ile entertaine The wounds of love with singing. 4. With Flowers and Wine, And Cakes Divine, To strike me I will tempt thee: Which done; no more Ile come before Thee and thine Altars emptie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: J. MILTON MILES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MONDAY'S CHILD by MOTHER GOOSE THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE [MAY 24, 1883] by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR THE MOON by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |