He that cannot chuse but love, And strives against it still, Never shall my fancy move; For he loves 'gaynst his will; Nor he which is all his own, And can att pleasure chuse, When I am caught he can be gone, And when he list refuse. Nor he that loves none but faire, For such by all are sought; Nor he that can for foul ones care, For his Judgement then is nought: Nor he that hath wit, for he Will make me his jest or slave; Nor a fool, for when others . . . ., He can neither . . . . . . Nor he that still his Mistresse payes, For she is thrall'd therefore: Nor he that payes not, for he sayes Within, shee's worth no more. Is there then no kinde of men Whom I may freely prove? I will vent that humour then In mine owne selfe love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FEW RULES FOR BEGINNERS by KATHERINE MANSFIELD BURNING DAWN by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPRING NOTES FROM ROBIN HILL by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE WRECK OF THE CIRCUS TRAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR THE INVESTITURE by CECIL DAY LEWIS |