Love bade me aske a gift, And I no more did move, But this, that I might shift Still with my clothes, my Love: That favour granted was; Since which, though I love many, Yet so it comes to passe, That long I love not any. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ENGLISHMAN IN ITALY by ROBERT BROWNING THE WAVES OF BREFFNY by EVA GORE-BOOTH BINSEY POPLARS (FELLED 1879) by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS WORLD'S WORTH by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LITTLE CROSS by EDITH AGNEW LAUTERBRUNNEN by THOMAS GOLD APPLETON |