Yet such it is that I will not exchange My life with those whom Fortune kind entreats, And since it is her arrow that doth range My tender heart, I kiss the rod that beats. I laugh at Cupid, who is overjoy'd With fond conceit, that he hath wrought this fire: But let him be with self-conceit destroy'd; 'Twas not his power, 'twas my own desire; Though Venus' hoodwink'd son doth bear the name, Azile's virtue 'twas did me inflame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 4. REVEILLE by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN LOVE AND TIME by WALTER RALEIGH SONNET by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) PSALM 24. DOMINI EST TERRA by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE PINE-TREE KIN by ANNE MILLAY BREMER TO THE PRESIDENT OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |