I hear some say, "This man is not in love." "What? Can he love? A likely thing," they say; "Read but his verse, and it will easily prove." O judge not rashly, gentle Sir, I pray. Because I trifle loosely in this sort, As one that fain his sorrows would beguile, You now suppose me all this time in sport, And please yourself with this conceit the while. Ye shallow censors, sometime see ye not In greatest perils some men pleasant be? Where fame by death is only to be got, They resolute? So stands the case with me. Where other men in depth of passion cry, I laugh at Fortune, as in jest to die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OH! SUSANNA! by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER TWO FUSILIERS by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES FELICIA HEMANS by LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON AN ODE IN TIME OF HESITATION by WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY THE CENTENARIAN'S STORY by WALT WHITMAN ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 11. ON LOVE - TO A FRIEND by MARK AKENSIDE PSALM 1. THE RIGHTEOUS AND THE WICKED CONTRASTED by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |