LOVE, drunk the other day, knock'd at my breast, But I, alas! was not within: My man, my ear, told me he came t' attest That without cause h' had boxed him, And battered the windows of mine eyes, And took my heart for one of's nunneries. I wond'red at the outrage safe return'd, And stormed at the base affront; And by a friend of mine, bold Faith, that burn'd, I call'd him to a strict accompt. He said that, by the law, the challeng'd might Take the advantage both of arms and fight. Two darts of equal length and points he sent, And nobly gave the choice to me; Which I not weigh'd, young and indifferent, Now full of naught but victory. So we both met in one of 's mother's groves, The time, at the first murm'ring of her doves. I stripp'd myself naked all o'er, as he, For so I was best arm'd, when bare; His first pass did my liver rase, yet I Made home a falsify too near, For when my arm to its true distance came, I nothing touch'd but a fantastic flame. This, this is Love we daily quarrel so, An idle Don-Quixotery: We whip ourselves with our own twisted woe, And wound the air for a fly. The only way t' undo this enemy Is to laugh at the boy, and he will cry. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE by WILLIAM COWPER IMITATION OF CHAUCER by ALEXANDER POPE HEALTHFUL OLD AGE, FR. AS YOU LIKE IT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE LIVE BLINDLY; SONNET by TRUMBULL STICKNEY SONNET FROM JAPAN: 2. THE SHRINE OF THE PILGRIM SANDALS by ADELAIDE NICHOLS BAKER RECOGNITION by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE SONNETS OF SEVEN CITIES: NEW ORLEANS by BERTON BRALEY EPIGRAM ON A ROPE-MAKER HANGED by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |