Come, you pretty false-eyed wanton, Leave your crafty smiling. Think you to escape me now With slippery words beguiling? No, you mocked me th' other day, When you got loose, you fled away. But since I have caught you now, I'll clip your wings for flying; Smothering kisses fast I'll heap, And keep you so from crying. Sooner may you count the stars, And number hail down-pouring, Tell the osiers of the Thames, Or Goodwin Sands devouring, Than the thick-showered kisses here, Which now thy tired lips must bear. Such a harvest never was, So rich and full of pleasure; But 'tis spent as soon as reaped, So trustless is love's treasure. Would it were dumb midnight now, When all the world lies sleeping. Would this place some desert were, Which no man hath in keeping. My desires should then be safe, And when you cried, then would I laugh. But if aught might breed offence, Love only should be blamed. I would live your servant still, And you my saint unnamed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING IN NEW HAMPSHIRE by CLAUDE MCKAY FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW I SING OF LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A FLORIDA GHOST by SIDNEY LANIER THE DAY AND THE WORK by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: DR. TRACE TO THE CORONER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JACOB GODBEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A LETTER ON THE USE OF MACHINE GUNS AT WEDDINGS by KENNETH PATCHEN |