Representative Poetry Online

Random Poem of the Day

1I prithee spare me gentle boy,
2Press me no more for that slight toy,
3That foolish trifle of an heart;
4I swear it will not do its part,
5Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy pow'r and art.
6For through long custom it has known
7The little secrets, and is grown
8Sullen and wise, will have its will,
9And like old hawks pursues that still
10That makes least sport, flies only where't can kill.
11Some youth that has not made his story,
12Will think perchance the pain's the glory,
13And mannerly sit out love's feast;
14I shall be carving of the best,
15Rudely call for the last course 'fore the rest.
16And oh when once that course is past,
17How short a time the feast doth last;
18Men rise away and scarce say grace,
19Or civilly once thank the face
20That did invite, but seek another place.