I LAUGH and sing, but cannot tell Whether the folly on 't sounds well; But then I groan, Methinks in tune, Whilst Grief, Despair and Fear dance to the air Of my despised prayer. A pretty antic Love does this, Then strikes a galliard with a kiss; As in the end The chords they rend: So you but with a touch from your fair hand Turn all to saraband. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INSCRIPTIONS: 1. FOR A GROTTO by MARK AKENSIDE RAIN ON A GRAVE by THOMAS HARDY THE GETTYSBURG ADDRESS by ABRAHAM LINCOLN THE CONGO by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY SONNET: 18. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT by JOHN MILTON |