HOW happens it, my cruel miss, You're always giving me the mitten? You seem to have forgotten this: That you no longer are a kitten! A woman that has reached the years Of that which people call discretion Should put away all childish fears And see in courtship no transgression. A mother's solace may be sweet, But Hymen's tenderness is sweeter; And though all virile love be meet, You'll find the poet's love is metre. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WORDLY WISE (5) by MOTHER GOOSE THE PHILOSOPHER TOAD by REBECCA S. REED NICHOLS ANGEL OR WOMAN by THOMAS PARNELL AD PATRIAM by CLINTON SCOLLARD THE OWL by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS OUR LEFT' by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR OUR BE'THPLEACE by WILLIAM BARNES |