Now while she wept beside that lonely shrine, A weasel ran from out the coverlet That Guillardun's fair body did confine, Which when her squire perceived, he straightway set Himself to slay, and struck across the spine.— One small life more, pass'd to man's monstrous debt!— Then flung the dead thing testily aside, Ere his sweet mistress that rude stroke could chide. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER THICKET by SHARON OLDS UNTITLED, 1968; FOR MARK ROTHKO by JAMES GALVIN TO JOHN BROWN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MY LIGHT WITH YOURS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 2 by EZRA POUND MODERN PARAPHRASE OF SHAKESPEARE'S SONNET 29 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |