Sir Henry Wotton
A Poem Written By Sir Henry Wotton In His Youth
O Faithless World, & thy more faithless part, a Woman's heart!
The true Shop of variety, where sits nothing but fits
And feavers of desire, and pangs of love, which toyes remove.
Why, was she born to please, or I to trust, words writ in dust?
Suffering her Eyes to govern my despair, my pain for air;
And fruit of time rewarded with untruth, the food of youth.
Untrue she was : yet, I believ'd her eyes (instructed spies)
Till I was taught, that Love was but a School to breed a fool.
Or sought she more by triumphs of denial, to make a trial
How far her smiles commanded my weakness? yield and confess,
Excuse no more thy folly; but for Cure, blush and endure
As well thy shame, as passions that were vain: and think, 'tis gain
To know, that Love lodg'd in a Womans brest, Is but a guest.
Sir Henry Wotton's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Poem Written By Sir Henry Wotton In His Youth by Sir Henry Wotton )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
- Romantic Love, The Princess
- So move, hasmukh amathalal
- His Face, Heather Jephcott
- Why to think?, hasmukh amathalal
- Through my window sill, binod bastola
- The bondage, hasmukh amathalal
- Brain's Ocean, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Defamation, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Horoscopes, gajanan mishra
- Lovely and pleasant, hasmukh amathalal