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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SONNET, by JEAN PASSERAT Poet's Biography First Line: Fowler! My friend, if riches be your aim Last Line: And through the villages doth bear the skin. | |||
FOWLER! my friend, if riches be your aim, I teach the way chill poverty to spurn: Let all the birds you've ta'en fly free, but learn One bird to snare, the bird whom Love we name. 'Tis he who, for an apple's worthless claim, Did the proud empire of the east o'erturn; Who makes, in winter, hearts like summer burn; Who robs our sleep, and sets the soul aflame. For if this bird, this wondrous bird, you take, Who hath such mischief made, and still doth make, You shall more lard, and eggs, and cheeses win Than does the hunter who in woods has ta'en Some big old fox, or some grey wolf has slain, And through the villages doth bear the skin. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE FOR THE FYRST OF MAYE by JEAN PASSERAT ON THE DEATH OF THULENE THE KYNGE'S JESTER by JEAN PASSERAT IN A GONDOLA by ROBERT BROWNING A THOUGHT IN TWO MOODS by THOMAS HARDY A VOICE PROPHETIC by WALT WHITMAN AT BAY RIDGE, LONG ISLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH I SHALL HAVE PEACE AGAIN (WRITTEN AFTER READING 'RIDERS TO THE SEA' by FLORA LOUISE BAILEY THE FIRST GRAY HAIR by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY THE COYOTE CHORUS by ANNE BIRDSALL A SONG OF THE ROAD by FRED G. BOWLES TO A FRIEND IN THE NAVY, SICK AT HOME by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |
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