1. I will confesse With Cheerfulnesse, Love is a thing so likes me, That let her lay On me all day, Ile kiss the hand that strikes me. 2. I will not, I, Now blubb'ring, cry, It (Ah!) too late repents me That I did fall To love at all, Since love so much contents me. 3. No, no, Ile be In fetters free; While others they sit wringing Their hands for paine; Ile entertaine The wounds of love with singing. 4. With Flowers and Wine, And Cakes Divine, To strike me I will tempt thee: Which done; no more Ile come before Thee and thine Altars emptie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAD IN THE SIERRAS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE HIGHER GOOD by THEODORE PARKER THE TRANCE by LASCELLES ABERCROMBIE THE SWORD by ABU BAKR OF MARRAKESH FATHER, THY WILL BE DONE by SARAH FLOWER ADAMS |