Thou art not so black, as my heart, Nor halfe so brittle, as her heart, thou art; What would'st thou say? shall both our properties by thee bee spoke, Nothing more endlesse, nothing sooner broke? Marriage rings are not of this stuffe; Oh, why should ought lesse precious, or lesse tough Figure our loves? Except in thy name thou have bid it say, I'am cheap, and nought but fashion, fling me'away. Yet stay with mee since thou art come, Circle this fingers top, which did'st her thombe. Be justly proud, and gladly safe, that thou dost dwell with me, She that, Oh, broke her faith, would soon breake thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OPPOSITES by KATHERINE MANSFIELD MEDITATION ON A JUNE EVENING by CONRAD AIKEN NOCTURNE IN A MINOR KEY by CONRAD AIKEN THE INCORRIGIBLE DIRIGIBLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOREST FLOWERS by ROBERT FROST ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST |