What need hast thou of me, or of my muse, Whose actions so themselves do celebrate? Which should thy country's love to speak refuse, Her foes enough would fame thee in their hate. 'Tofore, great men were glad of poets: now, I, not the worst, am covetous of thee. Yet dare not, to my thought, least hope allow Of adding to thy fame; thine may to me, When in my book, men read but Cecil's name, And what I write thereof find far, and free From servile flattery (common poets' shame) As thou stand'st clear of the necessity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A VIEW ACROSS THE ROMAN CAMPAGNA by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LOVE AND SLEEP by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE TEARS by TUMADIR BINT IBN AL-SHARID AL-KHANSA TWELVE SONNETS: 4. LONELY SEASONS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 11 by RICHARD BARNFIELD RHODE ISLAND by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES Γενεθλιακον by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |