Tell me not, friend, you are unkind, If ink and books laid by, You turn up in a uniform Looking all smart and spry. I thought your ink one horrid smudge, Your books one pile of trash, And with less fear of smear embrace A sword, a belt, a sash. Yet this inconstancy forgive, Though gold lace I adore, I could not love the lace so much Loved I not Lovelace more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORK WITHOUT HOPE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE TERRIBLE SONNETS: 3 by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT? by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS JOURNEY by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY EARTH TRIUMPHANT by CONRAD AIKEN THE SONG OF AMORGEN by AMORGEN; AMERGIN GLUINGEI; |