Amend thy stile who can: who can amend thy stile? For sweet conceit. Alas the while, That ever any such, as thou shouldst die, By fortunes guile, Amids thy meate. Pardon (Oh pardon) me that cannot shew, My zealous love. Yet shalt thou prove, That I will ever write in thy behove: Gainst any dare, With thee compare. It is not Hodge-poke nor his fellow deare, That I doe feare: As shall appeare. But him alone that is the Muses owne, And eke my friend, Whome to the end, My muse must ever honor and adore: Doe what I can. To praise the man, It is impossible for me that am, So far behinde. Yet is my minde, As forward as the best, if wit so would With will agree. But since I see, It will not bee: I am content, my folly to confesse: And pardon crave. Which if I have, My Fortunes greater than my former fall: I must confesse. But if he other wise esteeme of me, Than as a friend or one that honors thee: Then is my labor lost, my care consumde. Because I hate the hope, that so presumde. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LETTER TO JOSEPH WARREN by ROBERT FROST PREJUDICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GLOIRE DE DIJON by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE GULLS by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS THE ROYAL CROWN by ISRAEL ABRAHAMS LEANDER DROWNED by PHILIP AYRES |