Madam, I told you late how I repented, I asked a lord a buck, and he denied me; And, ere I could ask you, I was prevented: For your most noble offer had supplied me. Straight went I home; and there most like a poet, I fancied to myself, what wine, what wit I would have spent: how every muse should know it, And Phoebus' self should be at eating it. O madam, if your grant did thus transfer me, Make it your gift. See whither that will bear me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE KEEP-SAKE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE NOCTURNAL SKETCH; BLANK VERSE IN RHYME by THOMAS HOOD MODERN LOVE: 47 by GEORGE MEREDITH ISAAC AND ARCHIBALD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE THROSTLE by ALFRED TENNYSON OUR BE'THPLEACE by WILLIAM BARNES URANIA; THE WOMAN IN THE MOON: DEDICATION TO HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM BASSE |