Madam, I told you late how I repented, I asked a lord a buck, and he denied me; And, ere I could ask you, I was prevented: For your most noble offer had supplied me. Straight went I home; and there most like a poet, I fancied to myself, what wine, what wit I would have spent: how every muse should know it, And Phoebus' self should be at eating it. O madam, if your grant did thus transfer me, Make it your gift. See whither that will bear me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEAUTY by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG HUNTING: OPENING by JULIANA BERNERS NAPOLEON'S TOMB by DANA BURNET TO GEORGE, EARL DELAWARR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON CALIFORNIA OF THE SOUTH by GRACE ELLERY CHANNING-STETSON THE KISS by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ODE, TO A LADY ON THE DEATH OF COLONEL ROSS [AT] FONTENOY by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) |