Yet many will conjecture much amiss, Because my love so slowly is requited, Each spiteful Satyr will surmise by this, Thou hat'st me 'cause my pains have thee delighted; But let them please themselves with thought thereof, And with their wits ascribe their own applause, I free from anger at their harms will laugh, -- For some vex most when none will give them cause, -- That when thou seest how loyal I am thine, Thou may'st conceive the greatest harm is mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 3. HER WORDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH FLOWERS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO A FRIEND WHOSE WORK HAS COME TO NOTHING by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER TWO SONNETS: 2 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) KING VICTOR EMANUEL ENTERS FLORENCE, APRIL, 1860 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING TRUE TO POLL by FRANCIS COWLEY BURNAND |