Love is blind, and a wanton; In the whole world, there is scant one Such another: No, not his mother. He hath plucked her doves, and sparrows, To feather his sharp arrows, And alone prevaileth, While sick Venus waileth. But if Cypris once recover The wag; it shall behove her To look better to him; Or she will undo him. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE QUARREL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: BARNEY HAINSFEATHER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO A PRIZE BIRD by MARIANNE MOORE IN DISPRAISE OF THE MOON by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ELEGIAC SONNET: 44. WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH YARD AT MIDDLETON IN SUSSEX by CHARLOTTE SMITH IN THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH; 1677 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |