Would God, my Burges, I could think Thoughts worthy of thy gift, this ink, Then would I promise here to give Verse, that should thee, and me outlive. But since the wine hath steeped my brain, I only can the paper stain; Yet with a dye, that fears no moth, But scarlet-like outlasts the cloth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRST MOVIE by DAVID WAGONER THE LITTLE MILLINER by ROBERT WILLIAMS BUCHANAN THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: AUX ITALIENS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 10. THE DYING FALL by THOMAS CAMPION THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: SONG by OLIVER GOLDSMITH THE HOUSE ON THE HILL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE INCHCAPE ROCK by ROBERT SOUTHEY |