My deare, take in good parte this fortune badde since of the good, no man is alwayes sure And att the worste this one thinge may the gladd that in one staye Shee cannott longe endure The skillfull pilate trustes nott calmed skies hee sees fayre dayes with clowdes sone overcaste And good ytt is that stormes sometymes doo ryse therby to Joye when Jeobardyes are paste False fortunes smyles, the wiseste eyes doo blynde butt by her checks, the symple lerne skill Her frowarde thawarts doo try the constant mynd wheras her baites allure our harts to yll By her disgrace wee trye our frind and foe And which is more, our selves wee learne to know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LILAC: FIRST EMOTIONS OF LOVE by ROBERT BURNS TO HIS DYING BROTHER, MASTER WILLIAM HERRICK by ROBERT HERRICK FOR DECORATION DAY: 1861-1865 by RUPERT HUGHES RID OF HIS ENGINE by ALEXANDER ANDERSON ICH DIEN by SUSIE MONTGOMERY BEST RED COTTON NIGHT-CAP COUNTRY; OR, TURF AND TOWERS: PART 2 by ROBERT BROWNING |