Fayre ye be sure, but cruell and unkind, As is a tygre, that with greedinesse Hunts after bloud, when he by chance doth find A feeble beast, doth felly him oppresse. Fayre be ye sure, but proud and pittilesse, As is a storme, that all things doth prostrate, Finding a tree alone all comfortlesse, Beats on it strongly, it to ruinate. Fayre be ye sure, but hard and obstinate, As is a rocke amidst the raging floods, Gaynst which a ship, of succour desolate, Doth suffer wreck both of her selfe and goods. That ship, that tree, and that same beast am I, Whom ye doe wreck, doe ruine, and destroy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHRISTMAS CAROL, SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL by ROBERT HERRICK ON GROWING OLD by JOHN MASEFIELD TO A CHILD OF QUALITY, FIVE YEARS OLD. THE AUTHOR THAN FORTY by MATTHEW PRIOR THE BROOK: SPRING by LAURA ABELL REFUGE by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. |