LOVE guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I kiss he stingeth me.
Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.
Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then will I praise thy deity.
But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her.
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Comments about this poem (Phillis 2 by Thomas Lodge )
Sheldon Allan Silverstein
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(22 March 1941 -)
Michael P. McParland
(July 19 1983)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Your Laughter, Pablo Neruda
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