LET the rich man fill his belly; Let him fast that has no bread; And he may sleep in the moon light That cannot find a bed. If the sea were one great ink-pot And the sky of paper made, The evil that's in women Could not all be said. If the sea were one great ink-pot And of paper all the sky, It were not enough for telling, How deeply men can lie. To love with no return Is a sad thing to befall; But a sadder, to come to die Before having loved at all. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEDITATION ON A JUNE EVENING by CONRAD AIKEN THE SITTING by CECIL DAY LEWIS WHAT THING A BIRD WOULD LOVE by ROBERT FROST HIGH PLAINS RAG by JAMES GALVIN INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN OLD MEN ON THE COURTHOUSE LAWN, MURRAY, KENTUCKY by JAMES GALVIN WESTERN CIVILIZATION by JAMES GALVIN ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |