THAT no fair woman will, wonder not why, Clap, Rufus, under thine her tender thigh; Not a silk gown shall once melt one of them, Nor the delights of a transparent gem. A scurvy story kills thee, which doth tell That in thine armpits a fierce goat doth dwell. Him they all fear full of an ugly stench, Nor's 't fit he should lie with a handsome wench. Wherefore this noses' cursed plague first crush, Or cease to wonder why they fly you thus. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RECESSIONAL (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THREE FRIENDS OF MINE: 5; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BARBARA FRIETCHIE [SEPTEMBER 13, 1862] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER LILIES: 7. BEHIND by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) IMPROVEMENT IN THE FORTIES by THOMAS BARNARD CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: DEDICATION TO R. WENMAN by WILLIAM BASSE |