To pluck down mine, Poll sets up new wits still, Still, 'tis his luck to praise me 'gainst his will. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BY THE FIRESIDE by ROBERT BROWNING A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 12. A RENUNCIATION by THOMAS CAMPION IN HARDWOOD GROVES by ROBERT FROST A DEAD HARVEST (IN KENSINGTON GARDENS) by ALICE MEYNELL A JAPANESE FAN by MARGARET VELEY |