Young I was, but now am old, But I am not yet grown cold; I can play, and I can twine 'Bout a Virgin like a Vine: In her lap too I can lye Melting, and in fancie die: And return to life, if she Claps my cheek, or kisseth me; Thus, and thus it now appears That our love out-lasts our yeeres. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL by ISAAC ROSENBERG HOUSES OF DREAMS by SARA TEASDALE GLADYS AND HER ISLAND; AN IMPERFECT TALE WITH DOUBTFUL MORAL by JEAN INGELOW THE CROWING OF THE RED COCK by EMMA LAZARUS TALES OF A WAYSIDE INN: THE THIRD DAY: SCANDERBERG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE ONE LOST by ISAAC ROSENBERG IN THE GARDEN AT SWAINSTON (IN MEMORIAM - SIR JOHN SIMEON) by ALFRED TENNYSON |