PHYLLIS, for shame, let us improve A thousand several ways. These few short minutes stolen by love From many tedious days. Whilst you want courage to despise The censure of the grave, For all the tyrants in your eyes, Your heart is but a slave. My love is full of noble pride, And never will submit To let that fop, Discretion, ride In triumph over wit. False friends I have, as well as you, That daily counsel me Vain frivolous trifles to pursue, And leave off loving thee. When I the least belief bestow On what such fools advise, May I be dull enough to grow Most miserably wise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WAITING FOR THE GRAPES by WILLIAM MAGINN THE BLUE-FLAG IN THE BOG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 47 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH A SWEET CONTENTION BETWEEN LOVE, HIS MISTRESS, AND BEAUTY by NICHOLAS BRETON OUR PRISONERS OF WAR IN GERMANY by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES AN EPITAPH ON HIM by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE ROMAUNT OF THE PAGE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |