Love is blind, and a wanton; In the whole world, there is scant one Such another: No, not his mother. He hath plucked her doves, and sparrows, To feather his sharp arrows, And alone prevaileth, While sick Venus waileth. But if Cypris once recover The wag; it shall behove her To look better to him; Or she will undo him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT THE MEDAL; A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION by JOHN DRYDEN SONNET: 9 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY AFTERMATH by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE MEETING by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |