If my dear love were but the child of state, It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. No, it was builded far from accident; It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent, Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: It fears not policy, that heretic, Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, But all alone stands hugely politic, That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. To this I witness call the fools of time, Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: TO THE READER by WILLIAM BASSE VACANT STALL by ELIZABETH WILCOX BEASLEY TO CHILDREN: 1. FAIRY SONG by WILLIAM ROSE BENET TO M. I. (2) by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS AUTUMN TINTS by MATHILDE BLIND RESENTIENTS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |