 | Small poems of Divers sorts |  |
4.
[Lady, in your applause verse goes]
Lady, in your applause verse goesAs slow and dull as heavy prose;
And your known worthes (would you submit
Your self a subject unto Wit)
Would blunt invention, and (ore'come
With strong Amaze) make Poets dumbe.
By what means then shall I declare
My thoughts at height, or what you are?
A world of Paper would but be
My love in an Epitome:
Fair Lady, therefore do not look
For my affection in a book:
Search my life through, and if you find
Not what I can do, be unkind.
| Small poems of Divers sorts | |