Sonnett
My love and I for kisses play'd,
Shee would keepe stake, I was content,
But when I wonne shee would be paid;
This made mee aske her what she meant.
Pray, since I see (quoth shee) your wrangling vayne,
Take your owne kisses, give me myne againe.
Poem by
William Strode
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
Summaries, Analysis, and Information on "Sonnett"
More Poems by William Strode