Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde, That from the nunnerie Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde, To warre and armes I flee. True, a new mistresse now I chase. -- The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith imbrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you, too, shall adore; I could not love thee, deare, so much, Loved I not honour more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SELLING HER ENGAGEMENT RING by KAREN SWENSON BITTER-SWEET: CRADLE SONG [OR, BABYHOOD] by JOSIAH GILBERT HOLLAND THE LAMENT: A BALLAD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 6 by RICHARD BARNFIELD |