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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536566" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: IX</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536566" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">ON HER WAYWARDNESS<br>This is rank slavery. It better were<br>To till the thankless earth with sweat of brow,<br>Following dull oxen 'neath a goad of care<br>To a boor's grave agape behind the plough.<br>It better were to linger in some slow<br>Unnatural case, the sport of flood or fire,<br>To be undone by some inhuman vow<br>And robbed in youth of youth and its desire.<br>It better were to perish than thus live<br>Thy pensioner and bondsman, day by day<br>Doing fool's service thus for love of thee.<br>How shall I save thee if thou wilt not grieve<br>Even for shames like these? How shall I slay<br>The foes thou lovest, thou, their enemy?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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