|
|
|
|
A Woman’s Reply to Men: A Parody If life and love were ever new
And words of men were ever true, These petty pleasures might me move To live with one, a better love. For men of sheep as lovers fail As they travel through hill and vale To find a poor, lost lamb of theirs And think of love and things of air. The flowers do fade, and fields fallow. The love of men does turn shallow. A honey tongue, a heart of gall Has made some maidens to love fall. Your gifts, your poems, the beds of roses, A wariness in heart imposes. Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten, The love of men does turn rotten. The shine of gold and rosy buds, The silver gifts and precious studs, The petty pleasures do not move A sensible woman to love. Time does still hunt and Death does gain, And the pleasures of men I fain refrain. Your petty pleasures do not me move To live with you and be your love. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|