Poetry Archives

Though I have loved you well, I ween,
 And you, too, fancied me,
Your heart hath too divided been
 A constant heart to be.
And like the gay and youthful knight,
 Who loved and rode away,
Your fleeting fancy takes a flight
 With every fleeting day.

So let it be as you propose,
 Tho’ hard the struggle be;
’Tis fitter far—that goodness knows!—
 Since we cannot agree.
Let’s quarrel once for all, my sweet,
 Forget the past—and then
I’ll kiss each pretty girl I meet,
 While you’ll flirt with the men.