SO quick, so hot, so mad is thy fond suit, So rude, so tedious grown, in urging me, That fain I would, with loss, make thy tongue mute, And yield some little grace to quiet thee: An hour with thee I care not to converse, For I would not be counted too perverse. But roofs too hot would prove for me all fire; And hills too high for my unused pace; The grove is charged with thorns and the bold briar; Grey snakes the meadows shroud in every place: A yellow frog, alas, will fright me so, As I should start and tremble as I go. Since then I can on earth no fit room find, In heaven I am resolved with you to meet: Till then, for hope's sweet sake, rest your tired mind And not so much as see me in the street: A heavenly meeting one day we shall have, But never, as you dream, in bed, or grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAPPER KAPLINSKI AT THE NORTH SIDE CUE CLUB by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE RETURN (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UNCLE JIM'S BAPTIST REVIVAL HYMN by SIDNEY LANIER |